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OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 



BY 



THOMAS C. AMORY 



Reprinted from the Xew-Esglasd IIistorical axu Oenrai.ocical Reostfb fur July, 1S71. 

M'lth Additions. 



1871 



BOSTON: 

JAMES K. OSGOOD & CO., 124 TREMONT STREET. 
Lnte Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood & Co. 

ISVl. 



Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1871, 

Er Thomas C. Amoet, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



David Clapp & Sox, Printers. 






P R E F A C E . 



This brief sketch of a few amoiiLi; the mciuorable antiquities of 
Caiiibri(l<;e was imbHshcd in the July nuuil)er of the New-Enuhand 
Historical and (n'uealoi;ieaI Jie^ister. Un(h>r the impression that it 
may possess some interest for a wider circle than the readers of that 
Journal, with the consent of tlie editor it is now issued in a separate 
form. Some few additional particulars which have since been col- 
lected or which it seemed desirable to mention with a view to obtain- 
iw^ more full iutbrmation with regard to them for future use, have 
been appended. 

Circumstances altogether accidental first attracted the attention of 
the writer to the by-gones of Xew-Eni;land. lieiug in some respects 
favorably placed for the study of tlie subject, he listened rather to his 
own taste and inclination than to the suy:gestion forced constantly upon 
his mind that there were other antiquarians in the community far l)etter 
qualitied than himself to do it justice. He is not unmindful of what 
they have accomplished, or many more who have already finished 
their course. lie realizes that their abundant knowled<xe and superior 
ability have only been restrained by innate modesty and conscien- 
tious thoroughness from the field upon which he has ventured. 
Nothing indeed but theprofoundest conviction that valuable information 
with regard to former days is constantly passing out of mind which 
future generations will be glad to possess and which no one else shows 
any dis[)osiii()n to preserve, could make him bold enough to brave 
the censurt' of the critical in lending a hel[)ing linnd to rescue it from 
oblivion. 

All are ready to admit that ])rivate life, with its varied interests 
and pursuits, is an important subject for study, not of course entitled 
to the same ef)nsideration as the course of jiolitical events, the pro- 
vince of the regular historian, but l)oth alike contributing to a thorough 
knowledge of the past. What concerns individuals and families in 
humble walks, their social and domestic habits, remarkable incidents 
that give variety to the even tenor of their existence, leads us to foini 



4 PREFACE. 

more correct ideas of human destiny, of what Providence designed 
in constituting human nature as it is. Our local historians record 
facts and dates often investing much that is intrinsically dull with the 
cliarm of genius. Poets and novelists perpetuate what is striking 
or peculiar. But there is so much vigor and variety in our New- 
England character, our experiences for the two centuries and a half 
we have been in America have been so eventful, that to possess a vivid 
sense of what the individuals actually w^ere who have left their mark 
behind them and wrought important changes even in the world's 
history, we cannot too diligently study them in their abodes, and 
in the combination of surrounding circumstances which helped to 
form and fashion them. 

Busv men are too much enij-aored in their own concerns to have 
leisure for these pursuits. Yet where permitted to take in at a glance 
what is woi'thy of notice, they know how to value it. Everywhere 
about the earlier settled portions of the land are ancient residences, 
memories of distinguished personages, associations with remarkable 
events of which they know something and would be glad to know 
more. Could these be brought into one comprehensive view, much 
time would be economized that is precious, and the covmtry about 
them, instead of being j)rosaic and dull, teem wdth romantic interest. 
Such was the motive which prompted these papers. Life is preca- 
rious, and if the amount accomplished fall short of what has been 
projected, other pens will perfect what is left incomplete. 

Cambridge, as a nursing mother of New-England intellect, as the 
guide, philosopher and friend of writers whose productions and 
whose fame extend far beyond the limits of our language, on this 
account alone claims a conspicuous place in such an undertaking. 
And whoever is familiar with the beauty of her natural sceneiy, her 
social life and the historical events which have at times unduly dis- 
turbed the attention of her students at their books, nmst admit that 
whatever has chanoed or chanced with regard to these also should be 
remenibered . 

The author would repeat for his own justification, in closing, that 
it is only with a view to a general work on tlic antiquities, social and 
domestic, of New-England, that he should have ventured on ground 
already well occupied, and which is sure of such a host of future 
liarvesters. 



OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 



Maw years ago, ehcu fugaccs, whilst still an nndcrgraduatc of Ilarvartl 
but abroad for health, I was retiring for the night after a busily occupied 
Sunday in London, when two American gentlemen called at my lodgings in 
Regent street. They came to take me to the reception of our minister, Mr. 
McLane, to whose legation AVashington Irving was then secretary. In the 
course of the evening one of them ])roposed to me to be his companion 
through the lake counties of Wcstmori'land and Cumberland into Scotland. 
This proposition was too tempting to be declined, and a few days later we 
were on the roail. 

The castles and cathedrals that we visited, venerable ruins and famous 
battle fields we explored, works of art that charmed and exquisite scenery, 
luxuriant in siunmer vegetation which we gazed upon delighted, have left 
impressions if not as vivid as if of yesterdaj', by no means et!liced. Posting 
is still to be enjoyed to some degree of its former perfection in remoter 
places, but on more travelled routes its glories are departed. Before the 
rail superseded it, however, no mode of travel could have surpassed it in 
pleasantness or comfort. Neither on foot nor in the saddle could be 
acquired so complete a knowledge of the country traversed, with equal 
economy of time and strength. The roads were smooth, and fresh horses ready 
at the inn dooi-s to replace those scarcely weary with a ten mile pace. The 
carriages were adaj)ted to sunshine or to storm. Tiieir win<lows in front 
allowed broad views of the varying landscape. The springs were nicely 
adjiisteil, the cushions yit'l<U(l to pressure yet afforded support, racks and 
rests and pt)ckets were just wlicre needed, and we rolled along with never 
a wish beyond the delight of the moment. 

We lingered where we liked, or turned aside from our course where any 
object of interest invited attention. The wayside inns in which we rested, 
houses of more pretension in towns where we passed our nights, were 
neatness itself, and neither in bed nor board could l)e excelled. It was our 
especial good fortune to have abun<lanee of rain, but it never came in tho 



G OLD CAIMBEIDGE AND NEW. 

day-time to disconcert our plans. There was no dust upon the roads, turf 
and foliage were steeped in moisture, lakes and rivers brimmed with water, 
the cascades and cataracts among the mountains poured down in majesty 
and beauty, and even an English sky was often cloudless. 

The ruins of llaby, castle of Doune; solemn grandeurs of York-minster, 
Louther and Alnwick, Loch Katrine and Loch Leven, Hawthornden and 
Roslyn, the heights of Benvenue, the field of Bannockburn, -were a few of 
the picturesque or historical experiences which crowded that to me memo- 
rable journey Avith an ever renewed succession of delights. 

It was not its least valued privilege that the letters of introduction of my 
companion secured for us personal intercourse and acquaintance with some of 
the most gifted and distinguished celebrities of the period. We passed hours 
under their hospitable roofs, chatting over the remnants of our repasts, feasting 
our eyes on lawns and lakes which spread out before their windows, strolled 
through woods or over hillsides in their agreeable companionship, for my 
own humble part listening spell-bound to brilliant conversation on every 
variety of topic, sparkling with wit or racy in anecdote, which to a young 
student fresh from the perusal of works that had given them imperisbaljle 
renown, was a source of much enjoyment. Breakfasts at Rydal with that 
other Sir AVilliam Hamilton the mathematician of Dublin, with Lord 
Jeffrey at Craigcrook castle, rambles in the American forest of Sir Robert 
Liston with Mrs. Ilemans, a day at Abbotsford when Scott narrated in his 
own rich brogue many of those charming incidents of his life that make 
Lockhart's biography enchanting, these were incidents to render eventful 
the dullest existence ; and to have upon my head in blessing within three or 
four happy weeks the hand that penned his delightful volumes, and those of 
Wordsworth and Southey, was enough to waken sensibility if not kindle 
inspiration in the most ordinary mortal. 

On our way north our first resting place was Cambridge. INIr. Gray had 
been an honored son of Hai'vard, and by his culture, literary and political 
labors and laurels, requited his alma mater for her nurturing care and well 
earned parchments. He later bequeathed her his superb collection of 
engravings which he was then enriching with whatsoever was rare -and 
costly, paying in one instance as much as twenty guineas for what was 
peculiarly precious. He had been requested by the corporation to discover 
if possible among the records and traditions of old Cambridge, trace of 
John Harvard, earliest benefactor of the new, and whose name, attached to 
this oldest and most richly endowed American seat of learning, was little 
more than a shadow. 

That Harvard was born near London had been conjectured from his 
being entered Dec. 19, 1G27, as of Middlesex on the books of Emmanuel 
College, where he matriculated with the rank of pensioner, receiving 



OLI> CAMIUtlDCK AM) NKW. < 

his tlegi'ce as Bachelor of Arts in 1G31-2, an<l of ^Master in lOo.j. He soon 
after took onU'rs, married and came to America, and on the lirst Snnday in 
Auijn.st, 1 (!.')7, united with the ehnreli at Charlestown. On the second of 
November of that year lie was admitted as a freeman, ami on the fourteenth 
of September of that which followed, died of eonsumi)tion. His library of 
three hundred and sixty volumes, many of them of recent ])nblication yet 
still famous, rich in classics and comprising many standard works on 
divinity, he bequeathed to the infant college, which had been founded two 
years before at Newtown, a name on the previous second of May exchanged 
for Cambridge. He left the college besides nearly eight hundred jioundsjialf 
of his estate. His widow, believed to have been the daughter of ]Mr. Sadler, of 
I'atcliam, in Sussex, married in 1().'>I) Thomas Allen, who dismissed iVoni 
the IJostoii church " at their desire and his own," next year Ijecanic 
colleague of Kev. Zachary Synunes at Charlestown, returning to his native 
city of Norwich ill Ki.'tU. Harvards still existed in England, but only in 
one solitary line, followers of the Wesleys, and their earliest known ancestor, 
another John, was born in IGSO, forty years after the founder's death. 

]\Iany of the above circumstances connected with Harvard were already 
known, others due to subsequent investigation. All told, they fell far short of 
what it was desirable to be able to tell of one whose be(|uest indicated so en- 
lightened a sense of the value of learning, and whose name was destined to be 
inse[)arably connected with the college. His parentage, the early incidents of 
liis life, what prompte'd him to come to America, any other details to iill u|) 
the bare outline we possessed of his existence, it was our task to ascertain. 
Sixteen hundred pounds was in those days an inheritance sulliciently 
considerable when united with a liberal education to indicate a social position 
of which some trace should have been left : and we indulged the over 
sanguine expectation, us it proved, that our inijuiries would bi^ attended 
with success. 

-V month earlier, after a pilgrimage at sunset to the toml) of Sliakspearo, 
I had read to my conqianions, in the White Horse i)arlor at Stratford-on- 
Avon, Irving's ex(juisite chapters, and early next morning, from the elevated 
terrace of Charleote Park, watched the gambols of the deer, of that very 
herd from which Shakspeare had shot his buck, as they grouped with 
graceful sweep about the large, scpiare, reil-brii-k turreteiT Elizabethan 
mansion of the Lucy's. After visiting AVarwick and Kenilworth and the 
many marvels of that historic neighborhood, we reached Oxford in the early 
evening to revel in its magnificent walls and towers steepid in the moon- 
light. Again a month later I was to behold Melrose and Abbotsford under 
the same luminary, and now in its light the venerable forms of the halls 
and colleges of Cainbridge revealed their beautitnl proportions as we 
roamed throujih its streets. Tt wa^ ind' ed :\ -.ri-}>" i.> !"• r..iii..i,il>. r.-d :ind 



8 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

as the silver chimes broke in music on the balmy air of the quiet summer 
night, both my companion and myself were too full of the genius of the spot 
not to be moved. 

The ensuing days were devoted to our search. But vacation had emptied 
the colleges of both students and fellows. Profound stillness reigned 
supreme about the cloisters and those magnificent quadrangles, which 
impress Americans the more that our climate with its heavy snows and 
extreme heat in summer little favors this mode of construction. We visited, 
in the course of our pilgrimage, the seventeen different colleges, from Peter's 
of 1284 to Downing's of this nineteenth century, delighted with their nobly 
proportioned refectories and combination rooms, where the fellows take their 
wine and walnuts after their repasts in hall, libraries lined with quaint old 
oaken book-cases and ancient volumes, chapels most of them of moderate di- 
mensions, a few more magnificent if not equalling King's, with its fretted roof 
and painted glass. Everywhere the eye ranged from one object of beauty to 
another, impressed but never sated, ever}'- step presenting something more 
beautiful yet for admiration. Pictures and statues of familiar worthies, win- 
dows richly dight with designs, devotional or symbolical, in exquisite tint and 
tone, shedding their dim religious light on oaken wainscot and marble floor, 
delicate carvings in wood by Gibbons, elsewhere to be found but nowhere more 
airy and fanciful than at Cambridge, specimens of the oldest writings extant, 
in good i^reservation, as also manuscripts of Bacon, Milton, Newton, with 
the sense that here have moved and worked hosts of famous men whose 
names are familiar as household words, the very communion of genius, 
combined to render a visit to their shrine a blessed pilgrimage. 

Among the great numbers of separate edifices, ecclesiastical and collegiate, 
filling the place, the number of very venerable structures is not large and is 
constantly diminishing, giving way to new ranges of buildings or to new 
stone walls modernizing the old ones. But still there were here and there 
remains of mediaeval architecture in battlements and towers and richly mul- 
lioned windows, possessed of beauty not alone because strange and ancient, 
from historic or other associations, but from varied symmetry and combina- 
tion of delicate elaboration with broad masses and rude material. It is not to 
be denied that time, with its weather stains, crumbled lines, its moss and lich- 
ens, its mantling ivy which has a peculiar lustre and luxuriance in the humid 
atmosphere of England, has a potent spell of its own, but still l>esides are 
found at every turn in gatehouses and cloisters, buttress and battlement, 
marks of that taste which in the days of Plantagenet and Tudor monarchs 
erected for divine worship, conventual or collegiate uses, edifices never since 
surpassed in power to jjlease the eye or kindle the imagination. 

Oxford and Cambridge dispute the palm of antiquity, not only as seats of 
learning, both tracing l)ack to the very dawn of cln-istianitv on tlie island. 



OLD CAMHHIIXJK AND XinV. V 

l)iit as to wliidi possesses the oldest colk-ge. It is \vell known that before 
the thirteenth century the stiulents lived in hostels, as they were called, the 
religious houses receiving a few pupils, class rooms for the most part being 
hired of the inhabitants. Oxford claims University, lialiol and ^Mcrton as 
earlier than any Cambridge foundation entitled to the name of college, but 
this pretension is not allowed by her rival, who on lur ])art insists that 
St. John's Hospital and Michael House jjossessed equal if not higher claims 
to priority. Peter's is generally conceded by Thomas Fuller and (Jeorge 
Dj'er, the best authorities, as the earliest Cambridge college, and this was 
foun<led by Hugh do IJalstan, in 1274-81. Little is left of its original 
buildings. The next in date is Clare, which the Lady Klizabeth de Clare, 
granddaughter of Edward I., actuated, to use her own language, by a desire; 
for the extension of every branch of learning, that there may no longer 
remain an excuse for ignorance, and to create a firmer and closer union 
among mankind by the civilizing effects of indulgence in liberal stu<ly, at 
the retpiest of Kichard of Badow, in Essex, founded about the middle of the 
fourteenth century. Its buildings are all modern, but finely situated near 
King's Cha])el, its beautiful gardens extending across the Cam. 

It wouhl lie of course presumption, as well as apart from our purpose, to 
attempt to describe in these few pages the infinitely varied objects of 
interest that engaged our attention. We did om- work thoroughly and well, 
and not one of the many colleges we visited but presented, in ancient 
edifices, works of art or literary treasures,, something for admiration or to 
be remembered. Pendjroke, the creation of the wife widowed at lu-r 
nuptials, was the college home of Spencer; Jesus, of Cranmer and our 
.lohn Kliot ; King's, designed by the facile and unfortunate Henry ^'I. for 
the training of England's statesmen, as Eton to be their cradle, of Walsingliam 
and Walpole, of our John Cotton, John Winthrop and Charles Cliauncy- 
No one who has seen can ever forget the, hitter's nobh^ cIimihI. wiili long- 
drawn aisle and fretted vault, and light, religious but not dim the day we 
saw it, streaming through bible stories, transfigured, as it were, in chastened 
tints and graceful form, upon the dozen richly diglit and many-nudlioned 
windows on cither side. Nor could we fail to view with pleasure the 
mediaval courts of Queen's, joint foundation of York and Lancaster, of 
Henry's Margaret and Ivlward's queen, where Erasmus passed seven 
stuilious years, and Thomas Fuller learned the cloistered life he describes 
so well. We visited, too, the two-fold gifts of another nol)le lady, Margaret 
Tudor, who, though herself by right a queen aiwl jirogenitrix of monarchs 
by the score, [(referred to a throne a private station ; St. John's, with its 
bandsouje courts, its towers, and its library Iiays alio\c the C'ani. and 
Christ's in whose pleasant gardens Mihon fed the vi sIm! lii-es of song whirh 
ari- lo burn u\\ forever. 



10 OLD CAMBEIDGE AND XEW. 

"We visited Trinity, with its superb gateway and courts, one of tliem more 
spacious than any college's in Europe, flanked by buildings of many styles and 
uses, but blending into one harmonious whole — its historic chambers decked 
with the lineaments of gifted men who garnered there the strength with 
which to win on other fields the laurels nowhere else more cherished. Here 
once moved and thought. Bacon, Herbert, Cowley, Dryden, Newton, and 
hosts of later celebrities, among them Byron, Crabbe, Macaulay, Tennyson, 
and chief among the treasures of the noble library are manuscripts of some 
of them religiously preserved. 

^either Bennet nor Maudlin, neither Cats, nor Corpus, were overlooked 
in our wanderings, nor Sydney Sussex, planted by the aunt alike of 
Sir Philip Sj^dney and of Robert Dudley, the alma mater of that rough 
soldier and statesman, Cromwell, nor Caius, with its gates of humility and 
virtue leading to that of honor. An appointment a later day carried us 
to Emmanuel to consult on the special object of our mission with the senior 
fellow in residence, whom we found in gown and slippers at his moiTiing 
tea, in ajjartments as attractive as can be conceived for bachelor enjoyment. 
Three rooms connected, and filled to overflowing with heajis of books and 
all sorts of comfortable chairs and tables, and other appliances for' study or 
indulgence, commanded through the ojien windows broad sweeps of verdure, 
flowers of gayest tints, steeped in the sunshine. He told us all he knew, 
which was not much, and put us in the way of seeing what of note his 
college offered, from the many gfaduates among our New-England settlers 
]iossessed for us of peculiar interest. I hardly dare repeat the oft-told tale 
of Fuller, connected with its founder, leSt it be too familiar, but it is 
apposite in showing what direct descent is to be traced of our Cambridge from 
her English namesake. Sir Walter Mildniay educated himself kt Christ's, 
and then holding a financial office under government visited Queen Elizabeth 
soon after founding his college, and upon her saying she liad heard he had 
erected a puritan foundation, replied it was far from him to countenance 
anything contrary to her established laws, but that he had set an acorn 
which when it became an oak God only knew what would be its fruit. It 
soon overshadowed all other colleges in learning, for one half their masters, 
when Fuller' wrote, had been its pupils. Certainly the character of our 
New-England plantations was strongly tinctured and tempered by its 
puritan leaven, for besides Harvard — Hooker, Shepherd, Blackstone, Ward, 
Stone, Whitney and Dunst^r were educated within its walls, and John 
Cotton held one of its fellowships. It suffered a reaction later, becoming 
puseyistic in religion, tory in politics. It is worthy of note that Downing, 
the last Cambridge college, erected in 1825, should have had for its founder 
Sir Georo-e Downing, grandson of that Sir George, son of Emmanuel 



OLD CAMIJIMDCK AM) NKW. 11 

DowiiiiiiTi who took liis tlci^reo at our Cambridge in the first dass tliat 
graihiatcd. 

Tuit what espfcially c-lianns the stranger are tlio groiiiHls attadicil to tlic 
colleges. Downing, tiie youngest of the sisterhood, has an area ot" thirty 
aeres. But liowcver limited the space, the most is made of it. Art and 
nature for centuries have been busily at work Avith results a perfect marvel. 
Greater htnnidity of climate, and winters neither so severe nor protracted, 
give an immeasurable advantage, but taste for horticulture, with labor more 
economical, skill more widely diilused, render possible what is far less 
practi(,'al)le with us. Labyrinths, serpentine walks that make of a few acres 
an ap])arently ])oundU!ss dontain, lawns ever verdant, jtarterres ever in 
bloom, stately avenues and patches of water, jtresent at every turn new 
combinations. Then the river, spanned by graceful arches, meanders 
lovingly amongst these old palaces of learning, coving with the enamelled 
sward, relleeting the quivering foliage. 

It is not possible, in such a paradise, to be insensible, at least in sunnner, 
in these little Edens where the centuries arc constantly renewing their 
youth, to their numberless associations with foremost names in literature 
and science. In these pleasant parterres, intellectual giants sported and 
gained their growth. These were their favorite haunts in hours of re- 
laxation. Still survi\"es at Christ's the mulberry ^Milton planted. Tlu; 
divinity that stirred in Erasmus and Uacon, Newton and Gray, here walked 
in the garden. All around breathesthe inspiration that pioduce<l the 
choicest jjassages of our language, the. noblest productions of the human 
mind. Even pilgriuis from our own land may iind here kindred shades, 
perhaps i)roge'nitors. Not ail the architectural graces, Gothic or Grecian, 
that deck these splendid structures; not all their countless wealth of art 
and wisdom, seem possessions more to be coveted for our own alma mater 
than these exipiisite pleasure grounds. 

It was not with any ambitious design of con<lensing into these few pages 

whathas been so admirably related by Thomas, Fuller or (ieorge Dyer, or 

tVoni any impression that '"On the Cam," the brilliant production of 

hereditary genius is" not generally fainiliar, that we have ventured to 

suvjLjest comiiarisons between this irlorious creation of a thousand vears and 

" . . . . I ' 

her still youthful namesake. Old Cambridge may still keep pace with the 

ages, but her triiunphs are of the past. Ours has a vitality that promises a 

more vigorous development in times to come. It is worth her while to 

})rofit by the lessons of those who have alrea<ly trod the paths of experience, 

and seasonably remove or avoid obstacles that may stay her progress. The 

life of a university is of course intellectual, but she also has her .treasures 

in earthen ves'-els and should icek to pla< e her apples of gold in pictures of 



12 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

silver. What Harvard needs is ampler space and buildings, that may foster 
in youthful minds a taste for symmetry and beauty. 

That six years after the settlement of three or four thousand people in 
this then remote corner of the earth, hemmed in between sea and forest, 
alive with unknown terrors from buccaneer and savage, they should have 
thought, whilst themselves dwelling and worshipping under mud and thatch, 
of founding a college, can only be ascribed to the number of college gradu- 
ates among them. As the countiy developed, liberal contributions from all 
classes and conditions, to the extent of their scanty means, aided by gene- 
rous patrons in England, jDreserved it from perishing ; but its existence 
was a perpetual struggle against inadequate resources. Its oldest building, 
a wooden structure of which we know neither the form or arrange- 
ments, nor precisely where it stood, rapidly decayed and was replaced in 
1G64 by Harvard Hall, a fiiir and stately edifice of brick, one hundred feet 
in length by forty broad, with five gables in its roof along tlie front and rear, 
standing " not far from the old one." It remained till 1764, when it was burnt. 
This fate came near overtaking its career soon after its erection. President 
Oakes, who was wont to make long prayers in the hall, on one occasion, 
from promptings he could not explain, brought his exercise to a sudden close. 
The students returning to their chambers found one of them on fire, Avhich 
was soon extinguished and the building saved. 

The earliest Stoughton, also of brick, its front not far back of a line from 
the east end of Harvard to that of Massachusetts, the gift of the Lt.-Gov. of 
that name, and costing one thousand pounds, was added in 1699, and in 1720 
JMassachusetts, built at the instance of Gov. Shute. These three buildings, 
each one hundred feet in length, three stories in height, with' attics of the 
same materials, and like decorations, formed a handsome quadrangle, and 
are so represented in an engraving still extant, though rare, of the middle 
of the last century. The windows are glazed with diamond panes in leaden 
lattices. Near the centre of the square is a large elm, not far from the gates, 
in front of which, on the road, are, among other equipages of quaint and 
unusual forms, that of the governor, equestrians and several persons, standing or 
strolling about, in the fashion of the period. Of these buildings, Massachu- 
setts alone survives, and that, this year has been dismantled of its pleasant 
chambers to serve for a time for commencement dinners, lectures and 
similar purposes, and as a temporary repository for the superb collection of 
college portraits removed from Harvard opposite, t-ll the new Memorial 
Hall is ready to receive them. 

Behind Harvard and Stoughton was the brewery, beer in those beniglited 
days, when tea and coffee were not known, certainly at Cambridge, being 
reo-arded as a wholesome beverage. Farther along back of the spot whence 
Dane was latelv moved, and where Mattlicws Hall is building, long stood 



OLD ca.mui:id;;i: and m:w. 13 

the Iiuliiiu C"t)llogo, a brick striK/ture, civcted about IGOG, as a dormitory 
for twenty Imliaiis. The Tiidiaiis preferred tlieir native haunts to ehis.sic 
shades, and only one of their race ever took his degree, and tluit in IGGo, 
the year before the Society for Propaiiatinif the Gospel erected this edifice, 
at a cost of four hundred pounds. It being no longer needed for its original 
purpose part of it was used later for the printing press, which Glover was 
bringing over when he died in IG08, and which passed, with his widow and 
estate, to Dunster. Tlie press, in his day and Ciiauncy's, was kept at their 
residences, wdiere the PsaJms and first edition of the Indian liible, as also 
other books, were printed, but the second edition of the bil)le, in l(»8o, was 
printed at the Indian College. It does not appear when this building was 
taken down. It was still used for the press in 177"). "When a ft!W weeks 
ago the foundations were laid for ^Matthews Hall on a line with Ilollis and 
Stonghton, but to the south of Massachusetts, a line of ancient wall was 
unearthed, supposed to have once formed part of it. If so it would seem 
to suggest a fitting place for a monument to the apostle Kliot. 

Tiie need had long been felt for a suitable abode for the presidents. 
Dunster and Chauncy had provided for themselves. AVhere Hoar, Oak«'s and 
liOgers dwelt docs not appear, but neither Increase Mather, 1 GS.j-17<ll, nor 
Samuel ^^'iIlard resided at Cambridge. They were pastors of churches in 
Boston, and there made their home. Leverett, 1701-1725, had been a tutor 
and possibly had his own dwelling. AVhen "NVadsworth, 1 725-1 7.'57, was 
chosen, the general court ap|)ropriated one thousand pounds for a presidential 
mansion, which was occupied l)y him; Ilolyokc, 1737-1770; Locke, 1770- 
177:3 ; Langdon, 1774-17.SO ; Jos. AVillard, 1781-1804 ; Webber, 1805-1810 ; 
Kirkland, 1810-1.S28; Quincy, 1829-1845; Everett, 1845-1849 ; Sparks 
and Dr. "Walker had houses of their own ; and Felton was the first to occupy 
that erected out of a fund given for the purpose by Peter C. IJrooks, 

This presidential mansion, slightly changed at different periods but still a 
stately edifice, having served its purpose for a century and a quarter, is now 
known as the "Wadsworth house from its first occupant, and used for students. 
Attached to it formerly was a wing, in which the President had his olfice, and 
where he administered jn-ivates and reprimands to the refractory. Farther 
along at the corner stood the church, where were held commencements and 
other solemnities. This has been removed and its successor is on the other 
side of the avenue. Twenty years after the presidential mansion was 
built, Iloldcn Chapel, north of Harvard, was erected by the family of 
Samuel Holden, who had been governor of the Bank of Phigland. After 
long serving its purpose in ministering to the needs of the soul, assigned to 
the medical department, it was used for explaining the mechanism of the 
body. 

The college grew in numbers and in wants, and in 17G4 a new I»uilding, 



14 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

ut right angles witli and north of Harvard, was erected and called Ilollis, 
in honor of a family seven of whom from Thomas down had been liberal 
benefactors. It was of the same material and dimensions, bnt less decorated, 
than either Massachusetts or Harvard. Just as it was ready for occupation, 
Harvard, then used by the General Court, as smallpox was prevailing in 
Boston, caught tire in the chapel, one stormy night in winter, and the students 
being away, though governor, council and representatives worked hard to 
save it, it was too late, when discovered, to be extinguished. In it perished 
a wealth of precious books and pictures. Governor Bernard the same year 
laid the corner-stone of the present Harvard, endeared to cotemporaiy 
graduates by the wise and witty things they have heard within its Avails. 

Trenching, at every word, on what is generally familiar, we simply will 
remind our readers of the flight of students and professors, with their books? 
to Concord and Andover, when Boston Ayas besieged, and how returning they 
found the buildings not improved by military occupation. Stoughton, never 
strongly built, had become dilapidated, and being dangerous in 1780 it was 
necessary to remove it. Its walls, according to one authority, were sprung 
by the earthquake in 1755 ; or, if we believe another, having been long out of 
plumb, were righted by the shock. The j^resent Stoughton, on a line with 
HoUis, was built in 1805, and Ilolworthy in 1813, after Sir Matthew, who 
in 1G80 gave the college its then largest donation of the seventeenth century, 
of one thousand pounds. Neither Stoughton nor Holworthy cost more than 
twenty-four thousand dollars. Hardly had the latter been completed, when 
the foundation was laid of University Hall, for chapel commons and reci- 
tations. It was of larger dimensions, and the material, instead of wood or 
biick as in the earlier edifices, was granite. In some slight measure it rose 
above their severe simplicity, its broad flight of steps, now removed, and 
handsome pilasters giving it an air of modest elegance. 

During the last fifty years the college, expanding into a university, 
and losing its sectarian character, hundreds of its children enriching her in 
their lifetime, or remembering her in their wills, her hundred thousand dollars 
in 1797 of property increased nearly forty-fold, edifices for all her various de- 
partments have gone up rapidly. Theology and law are conveniently lodged, 
the former in 182G in Divinity Hall, in the groves to the north of the 
college yard, the latter in 1832 in Dane near Massachusetts. Gore Hall, 
for the Library, in 1839, with buttresses and pinnacles, was the earliest 
attempt at architectural splendor, and since, with the exception of Appleton 
Chapel slightly adorned, they have resumed their characteristic jilainness. 
The Observatory in 184G, Scientific Hall in 1)^48, Boylston in 1858, Gray 
in 18G8, Thayer in 1870, and the Agassiz Museum, are all well fitted 
for their })urposes. The most has been made of the means appropriated, but 
they have been constructed with reference to rigid economy rather than any 



oij) r.\Mni;ii)(;i: and m:w. la 

otln r iJiliiciplo of beauty than adaptation. Two nioro halls arc soon to ho 
ciVftotl, m-iii'rous<rifts of wealtliy citizens of Boston, tliat of William F. WcM 
on a line with University, that of Nathan ^Mattlicws ojipositr. It is to ho 
hoped they will keej) as nuich in advance of former models as the Thayer 
and (»ray. When completed, the buildings in the yard will form another 
(jnadrangle of five or six hundred feet by nearly two, the Chapel and Libra- 
ry standinij outside of it to the east. Another bnildinij, Ilolyoke House, 
one hundred feet S([uare, for dormitories, restaurants, and business pmposes, 
is being built at the corner of Harvard and Ilolyoke streets. It is refresh- 
ing to thiidc that in the ^Memorial Hall, to cost nearly one-third as nuich as 
all the other buildings together, we shall have one grand edilice to gratify 
our taste, to vie in magnilicencc antl anhitectural I)eauty with those at the 
seats of learning abroad. 

We. should be sorry to see buildings of excessive ornamentation, (ioiid 
and Haunting. ca>ting into painful contrast the homeliness of those we liiive 
loved so long. JJut it is true economy in building for the jiublie, or the 
ages, to keep well abreast or in advance of existing tastes. Architecture! as 
a fine art, in America, is making rapid strides, and no where lias a better 
iield for the exercise of genius than in college buildings. Our good old 
ugliness produced no doubt as ripe scholarship, but the constant presence of 
graceful forms, of the grand and glorious in this noble art has a happy 
aesthetic influence on youthful minds, when forming, satisfying the natural 
craving for what is beautiful. Straight lines and plane surfaces may be less 
expensive than curves and arches; bays and oriels, mullions and itinnacles, 
may not (piicken the intellectual faculties, but all shapes and colors that 
.iwaki'U sensibility educate the a'sthetic nature, refine taste and increase 
happiness. 

Heretofore the pressing needs of the present have precluded any prt'pai'a- 
tion for those of the future. But the rich collections and cabinets of Cam- 
bridge will gradually attract there students of every science and art, and it 
behooves the gentle mother to spread her lap and give them welcome. The 
college yard of twenty-two acres, the botanic garden of seven, with the re>t 
of her territory in Cand)ridge, docs not exceed forty-eight acres, and wis(! 
forecast demands that whatever else can upon any contingency be hereafter 
needed, by purchase, gift or bequest, should sooner or latel' vest in the 
college. Families and individuals come aiul pass; the college lives through 
centuries. If as present edifices decay, if as th(>. vahu! of modern estates 
enhances, arrangi'ments could now be made that whatever is available 
should finally vest in the corporation, it would work no prejudice to presi-nt 
proprietors or their descendants. If ]\Ionnt ^Vubin-n, whicli with all its 
beauty as a cemetery, as art has eiowded out n.-itiiic. has alreaily lovf sonii'- 
thing of its primitive charm, if the beautiful w«"..U n.iii- l•^•..-,l| I'ond .miiI.I 



16 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEM\ 

have been seasonably secured, precious opportunities would not have been 
lost ; but much remains which may still be saved. 

Ten years ago the two Cambridges with similar areas liad nearly the same 
population, not far from thirty thousand. Ours has now over forty, of whom 
little more than one are connected with the colleges for eight in theirs. "We 
have more universities in this country, and more students distributed among 
them ; but with our growth and increasing enlightenment our Cambridge may 
have, before many years, as many on her rolls. This and the rapid enhance- 
ment of values should be an additional incentive with our alumni to in- 
crease its funds that seasonable purchases may be made for future wants. 
The government have not been idle. They have this year added to their 
domains the Holmes estate of five acres and a third, and in conjunction 
with the committee on Memorial Hall purchased the Jarvis field of five more 
on Everett, Oxford and Jarvis streets, for a play -ground, in the place of the 
Delta which has been appropriated as a site for the hall. Mr. Longfellow and 
others last year presented the college with seventy acres of marsh land on the 
Brighton side of the Charles, to be used as gardens, public walks, or orna- 
mental pleasure groitnds, and for buildings not inconsistent with such use, 
when the land is filled up to a proj^er level. This will not be difficult, as the 
Albany Railroad is near by. 

If ever the additional territory should be secured for the college, those who 
come after us may see all along the river, the tide perhaps in part shut out, 
shadj'^ avenues, and pleasure grounds like those of England's Cambridge — 
walks shielded from the noonday, where scholars, fond of the beautiful in 
nature, may gain additional strength and vigor for mind and body by healthy 
exercise. The approj)riation of a portion of the Bussey farm at West 
Roxbury, left for the purpose, to an agi'icultural school, to be forthwith 
instituted, with the botanical department and garden, should supply all 
shrubs and trees for ornament at little cost. Judiciously selected and placed, 
if of no immediate advantage, they will keep pace in their growth with the 
colleges and reach their prime when wanted. 

Much as we might wish that the edifices of our own alma mater compared 
more favorably with those of her prototype across the sea, this was hardly 
to be expected. The circumstances out of which grew the splendid struc- 
tures of Oxford and Cambridge, in the mother land, essentially differed 
from any ever known in America. In feudal times and countries, wealth 
centred in kings and nobles. Through their religious zeal, partaking quite 
as much of superstition as genuine piety, or from their necessities proceetl- 
ing from over and profuse expenditure which the priests had the means to 
relieve, ecclesiastical and monastic institutions gradually absorbed a large 
share of the land and other property, whilst the masses, uneducated and little 
skilled in handicraft, were content to toil for the scantiest wages which per- 



OLD CAMr.nTDfii: a.nd .m;\\. 17 

mittcd them to subsist. Superb catliedrals, raise<l at vast cost, aii<l wliich an- 
still the a(bniration of the world, excited cnuilation, and many of the most 
beautiful buildings now in existence were produced in what we are apt to 
call the dark ages. The ex(juisite taste that fashioncil them was also dis- 
]>layed in castles and convents, and college buildings combined whatever was 
peculiar or especially attractive in the rest, being enlarged or partially n-built 
at dillerent epochs and gruwing with the centuries. Their general cHi-ct is 
j)erhaps more pleasing and impressive than if they were the criMtiou (if a 
single mind, or of a single period. 

But if the conihtion to whith Kiigland owes what especially altiacts and 
attaches Americans to the home of their fathers is not likely to be repeated, 
possibly the future may have in store for us a wealth of lieauty \\ hich has 
not yet entered into the mind of man to conceive. Let us hope we shall 
not merely await its coming, but go to meet it and welcome it l)y recognition 
and ready adoption. "Whilst tolerating what is, however unpretending, for 
its sacred associations, let us not suffer anything to be constructed which is 
not well abreast of the times, or which in form or dimension falls short of 
our highest standard of excellence. 

The college has had able liistorians in Benjamin Peirce one of its former 
librarians, whose work, brought down to 170'.), was published after liis death in 
1833, ably edited by John I'ickering : and in Josiah (^)iiiney, its ])resident, 
who, in 1810, published in two volumes his admirable history. Besides these 
elaborate productions, Hon. Samuel A. Eliot, its former treasurer, published in 
18 18 a brief sketch of the college. It is understood there is in pre]»arati(jn a 
liistory of Cambridge by Ivev. Lucius II. Paige, D.l)., wiiich will soon be 
ready for publication. Rev. Mr. Iloppin of Christ Church has piinted a 
liistory of his parish ; and in vol. vii. of the first series of the ^lass. Historical 
Collections is an account of Cambridge, by the Kev. Al)iel Holmes, and in 
vol. V. of the same series, page 2.30, a history of Newton, in earlv times part 
of the same municipality with Cambridge. 

But comparatively a small portion remains of the original area of the 
town, Newton, Brighton and Arlington having been set off, and Imt a few 
small patches of territory added. Even down to the middle of the last 
century, the more easterly portion, where now its habiuuions are most 
crowded, consisted mainly of three large farms. That of LieTit-Ciov. Spencer 
Phips, eventual heir of Sir "William who raised out of the dcjdhs of the 
ocean three hundred thousand pounds of coin froni a sunken treasure ship, 
comprised three hundred and seventy-five acres, dividcrl, when he died in 
17.')7, among his four daughters, who married Ivichard Lechmere, John 
"N'assall, Joseph Lee and Andrew Boardman. The estates of Thomas Soden 
and K:il|)h liiinan. together nearly as exf«'nsive. covered what is now the 
I'ort. The Vassall estates and those of Oliver, Lechmcre. Lee. Ilasiln^s 



18 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

and Brattle, Wyetli and Stone, occupied much of the territory west of the 
colleges, as the former did those to the east, leaving little space for their ex- 
pansion or other inhabitants. The land was not of much value. The 
orchards were celebrated and yielded large quantities of excellent fruit, and 
the extensive marshes heavy crops of salt hay. 

In 1G30 it had been determined to establish the capital at Newtown, as 
Cambridge was then called. The frame of Winthrop's house was raised 
there ; but taken down upon assurances of Chickatawbut that the colonists 
Avould not be molested by the Indians if at Boston, it was removed to a site 
near the Old South. Thomas Dudley, somewhat provoked at this defection, 
persevered and erected his own dwelling on what was afterwards Water 
Street, at the end of Marsh Lane. It was not far from the present college 
enclosures and near the ferry, which was a little below where in IGDO 
was erected the Cambridge Great Bridge. Entrenchments and palisades 
were proposed to enclose one thousand acres, part of the lines, seventy years 
since, still to be distinguished on the north side of the common. As the 
travel to Boston was either over the Charlestown ferry or by the great bridge 
throuo-h Brighton over Roxbury Neck, a distance of about eight miles, this 
controlled in some measure the early settlement. It was not till after the 
construction of West Boston bridge, 1790, and Craigie's, a year or two later, 
that the large farms Avere broken up and streets laid oiit. In 1800, seventy- 
three acres of the Soden farm were sold for a small price to Judge Francis 
Dana, whose spacious and costly mansion, then still in possession of his family, 
was destroyed by fire, 1834. 

Our space forbids any full account of the many interesting specimens of 
ancient domestic architecture in Cambridge that remain. Yet as the natural 
process of decay, conflagrations and the march of improvement are constant- 
ly reducing their number, some brief description of a few of the older 
mansions may not be out of place. 

The first object of any interest in approaching the colleges from Boston, 
to the right of the main street, and some rods distant from it, is a large 
imposing structure, of a peculiarly A'cnerable appearance, commonly 
known as the head-quarters of General Putnam. Here Old Put, as he is 
irreverently called, resided during the siege of Boston, 177o-G, his 
battery, consisting of the big gun that took a load of powder to fire it off 
and finally burst during the operation, being a mile or two oiF on the shore. 
The house was at that time of some anticpiity, having been ' erected about 
half a century earlier. It was long the residence of Kalpli Inman, a gei:- 
tlcman of fortune, born in 1713, and who died there in 1788, having however 
during the revolution been a refugee loyalist. His son George, II. C. 1772, 
Avas an ollicor in the British army, and his daughter married Captain Liiizee 
«jf its navy. In the hurry of departure, not realizing that instead of a few 



ULl) (A-AIIlKlDCi; AM) .M;\\. 10 

(lays or weeks, lie was to be many years absent, I\Ir. Iimiaii left his liou<e 
with all its costly plenishinii;, his stables amidy providetl with horses an<l 
hauilsonie e(juii»ayes. Tin- "general, in takiiiij jiossession of the preinises for 
his hea(l-(|Uarters, eonsitlered these not iinnatnrally as part of their appen- 
(lai^es, ami ]\[rs. Putnam took her airings in the family enacli. TIk- seleet- 
nieii. provoked at this by them unwarranted appropriatii»n of eoiiliseateil 
jjropertv, ha<l the presmnption, when she was some distance from home, to 
(•oin|tel her to alight. The ircneral was not of a temjier to submit very 
meeklv to such an allront, and his indignation was expressed with sullicient 
I'orce to have become historical. 

As when the house was erected there was no bridge towards lioston. and 
theie were consecinently few buildings where now exists a dense popula- 
tion, it stood in the midst of an extensive domain of wooils and 
iields, of •which, until <piite recently, six acres still remained attached to 
the mansion. Three stories in height, it has a stately ajipearanee, from 
its great si/e and fair proportions. The rooms are low, the j)rojecting 
beams and doors of the ohlest style of panel work indicating the early 
])eriod of its construction. Towards Inman street an outer door leads into 
a vestibule peculiar in form, opening on one side into a long low apartment, 
looking out on a pia/./.a towards the Boston road. This room ojiens into 
another of handsome Jinish, with lire place ojjposite the win<lows, on either 
side of which are doors connecting it with the kitchens and ollices. Farther 
along on the same front is a large old fashioned staircase, leading to the 
third lU)or, and bi'yoml this again are two rooms connected with folding 
doors. Behind the two rooms first mentioned, besides several apartments 
for domestic purposes, is another staircase enclosed. The edifice has been 
little modeini/ed, and presents throughout, at every turn, marks of extreme 
age, though sutliciently elegant to constitute a pleasant house to dwell in. 

Farther along the road, not far from the new granite <liur( Ii of the Bap- 
tists, was the old parsonage, built in 1 ()'.•(>, with a new front in 1 7:iil. It was 
on a glebe of four acres, now i)art of the college yard. Here resided many 
of those noted divines who successively tilled the Cambridge jinlpit, iMr. 
Holmes being the last who left it, in ISO?. Near it was the house of I'rof. 
AVigglesworth, removed many years ago. ( h\ the other side of the way stands 
a handsome three-story mansion with a double courtyanl, auri which in its 
original splendor had attached to it away from the roa<l a series of terraces, 
descending towards the river. It was built by Rev. East Apthorp. lirst rector 
of Christ church, in 17G(>, and was often called the Ej)iscopal Palace. 

At the corner of Harvard and Dunster Streets, exteniling down to tiie 
land now covered l>y the Horse Railroad staliles, stood, thirty years ago, the 
residence of President Dunster. Its roof in front was a<lorned by English 
•rabies, .uid ill the rear continued far down towards the irioun<l. .Mong 



20 OLD CAMBRIDGE AXD NEW. 

Dunster Street was a wing wliich once contained the printing press. My 
informant, who was for nearly twenty years tenant of the estate from the 
college, tells me there was much handsome finish about the rooms but that 
they were low. Farther down Dunster Street formerly stood a venerable 
mansion facing on the street, but which is now moved round on to Mt. Au- 
burn Street. It has two windows on one side of the door and three on the 
other, and is both old and handsome. Whose it was in its youth, diligent 
in(|uiry has failed to inform us. 

Between Harvard Street and the Charles are several other old edifices, 
some of them preserving traces of their former magnificence, for the most 
part, however, in a dilapidated state, and if still put to domestic uses, for 
families only of restricted means. But about Winthrop Square and its 
neighborhood were formerly elegant residences, Winthrops and Trowbridges 
and other personages of consequence abiding there. Governor Thomas 
Dudley's house, more embellished than was deemed of good example 
in the arduous enterprise in which they were engaged or by the puritan 
standards they were bound to respect, mouldered not far away. The feriy 
and the great bridge, the latter now passed almost as much into desuetude as 
the former, then were centres of traffic, and their approaches were lined with 
the residences of families who from their larger means could consult their 
convenience in selecting their dwelling places. 

A near relative of the writer frequently accompanied her father in his 
visits to Thomas Brattle, a genial and kind-hearted old bachelor of ample 
fortune, whose house stands near the site of the present University press. He 
had been during the revolution among the refugee royalists, who, unwilling 
to fight against either their king or countrymen, left America. The emi- 
nent public services of his father and his own acts of benevolence to our 
prisoners in England, during the war, made it no diflicult task for one 
inclined to befriend him and who stood high in public confidence, to obtain 
from the general court the restoration of his property which had been 
sequestered. Soon after the passage of this act of grace, Mr. Brattle called 
upon his friend to offer him half the fortune saved through his efforts and 
infiuence. This was of coarse declined, but the most cordial intimacy long 
subsisted between them and the judge, whose children were ever welcome 
guests at the Brattle mansion. They often spoke of this excellent man in 
terms of the warmest affection, and of the many pleasant entertainments 
in which they had taken part under his roof. 

The house itself is a square edifice, of no great pretension, but still one of 
those substantial and well-proportioned dwellings suggestive both of elegance 
and comfort. It was amply provided with books and pictures, and all the in- 
teresting plenishing which four generations of comparative affiuence had ac- 
cumulated. Thomas tlie great-grandfather of Thomas Brattle, married Eliza- 



OLD CAMBRIDCK AND NKW. "21 

both Tvnc:, and loft in KjS^I one of tliolarifost cstatL-.s in XfW-Knglanil, about 
ci;,flit thousand pountls. In the next generation anotlier Thomas was one of 
the founders of the Manifesto Church on Brattle Street, and for twenty years 
treasurer of the eoUege, and William, his brother, was settled in 1 (i'.Hi over the 
church at Cambridge, where he died in 17 1 ">. Their four sisters married Nath- 
aniel Oliver, John Eyrc,AVait AVinthrop, Joseph Parsons, John Mieo. AVilliam 
the Brigadier, only son of William tlie minister, much distinguished in jiublic 
life, and an overseer of the college, was the father of the loyalist who gradu- 
ated there in 17 GO. 

From the connection of his honored progenitors with Harvard College it 
was natural for him, during his eight years residence in England, to visit her 
seats of learning, and he certainly acquired there or at home a remarkalde 
fondness for horticulture. His spacious grounds, extending to the river 
Charles, abounded in Howers and fruits. He planted a long walk of trees 
for the especial benefit of the students, where they might take their exercise 
sheltered from the sun, and erected a bathing-house on the river for their 
accommodation and iiistniction in swimming, several of them having then 
recently perished froni ignorance of that useful art. In the grounds behind 
his house was a small pond, shaded by willows and stocked with lish. He 
was devoted to every good work, contributing largely to the wants of the 
poor and needy, the sick and the suHering, and he left in his will to the 
friend above mentioned, who wrote an eloquent obituary of him when ho 
died, a portrait of the "Man of Koss," whose example he emulatid, and 
which is still carefully preserved. 

Charles river, fed by nund)erless smaller streams and an extensive water 
shed, in Medwav. about twenty miles from Boston, has already acquired 
consideral)le volunu'. It makes a long circuit, dividing its waters in Dedham 
to hell) form the Neponset, which enters the bay at the southerly extremity 
of what was Dorchester, now part of Boston, while its main branch, passing 
by the Upper and Lower Falls in Newton, enters Waltham where its power 
is used for milling purposes, and separating Watertown and Brighton be- 
comes the boundary of Caml)ridge at Mt. Auburn. Its earlier course ex- 
h:l)its stretches of more picturesque beauty, but even where it runs by 
Candtridge and its shores arc disfigured by wharves and industrial estab- 
lishments, the tide ebbs and ilows and broad marshes spread Out on either 
side, it presents at many points scones that are pleasing, that from Kiver- 
side bridge looking towards Longwood and Corey's hill being pe<-uliarly 
attractive. It constituted too considerable an element of Cambridge life in 
former days, when it was more customary to navigate it in jileasure boats, 
not to be mentioned. Most of the residences, about to be described, extended 
across the "Watertown road, now lirattle street, down to the river, the farm 
house of Klmwood being near its banks. It empties into the Charles liiver 
4 



22 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

Basin, an expanse of water about a mile in length by half a mile in breadth, 
near by the Mayfair of Boston, and on its waters occur frequent rowing 
matches in which the Harvard crews take a conspicuous part. 

Before proceeding to describe the memorable mansions farther up what 
was formerly the road nearest the river, mention should be made of Cam- 
bridge common, an area of about twenty acres, now divided by roads, which 
lies nearly west of the college buildings, and northeast of the lower part of 
Brattle street. It was for many years a barren waste, its thin, sandy soil 
overspread by turf which rarely showed any aj^proach to verdure. It is now 
planted with trees, and adorned with a memorial monument to the dead for 
the Union. Near the westerly end still stands the superb wide-spreading 
elm under whose shade Washington, July 3, 1775, first drew his sword as 
general-in-chief of the American army to drive the British troops from 
Boston. 

Appointed by a congress of all the colonies at Philadelphia, his here assum- 
ing command made the armed rebellion continental and national. Not 
far away is Christ Church, a model of modest grace and beauty, designed by 
Harrison the architect, who finished Blenheim. By its side stretches God's 
Acre, where rest from their labors the dead generations, and nearer than 
this to the colleges the Unitarian Church, successor of that once consecrated 
to the Cambridge Platform of 1G4G, and the five points of Calvinism. On 
the east side of the common are the college enclosures, and towards the 
north, beyond the Delta on which is being erected the Memorial Hall, and 
the Scientific School founded by Abbott Lawrence, and somewhat in front 
of the woods midst which stand Divinity Hall and the Agassiz Museum, 
is the estate of five acres just now purchased by the college for fifty-five 
thousand dollars, of the fomily of Holmes. 

Plere was born Oliver Wendell Holmes, our charming poet, philosoiiher 
and friend, for whoever has grasped his hand, or received his greeting, 
gazed on his countenance aglow with inspiration, or read his volumes as 
exhaustive of moral and social humanity as his lectures of its physical frame, 
must so consider him. Here dwelt from 1807 to 1837, when he died, 
Abiel Holmes, father of the poet, and pastor of the Congregational Church? 
who, learned at all points, but especially historical, wrote his American 
Annals and other well-known contributions to our literature in that jileasant 
library lined with books, to the right of the hall in this mansion of many 
memories. The room itself, of Puritan plainness and simplicity, is a square 
box with no other ornament than its projecting beams and some sj^mmetri- 
cal panel work on the side from which the hearth in winter diffused from 
burning embers its wariuth and glow. The side window looks over fields 
and paddocks with a few venerable trees, and those in front open on a small 
enclosure lined with shrubs, through which along that front leads a path the 



OLD CAMIJUIDGIO AND NEW. 23 

usual approacli to tho lioiiso. The room, neat as wax work, Iia-s no mark now 
of bfini^ ustMl ; Ijiit when filled with such ancient chairs ami tahles as al)ounil in 
other parts of the house, ami in that blessed confusion that attciuls literary 
labor, ])resented a different scene; — the aged pastor at his desk, incubatinj; 
in staid solemnity his weekly discourses, the boy at the window with ima- 
gination all compact, and eyes in fine frenzy rolling, assimilating the thoughts 
of other men or revelling in his own. 

Across the hall arc the grim features of Dr. Cooper, and lieyond the door 
to the drawing room a stair-case connecting at the upper landing with another 
flight back, separated by a door. This arrangement, not unusual in houst-s 
of early date, led Lothrop ^lotley, when on a visit to the poet, to remark, as 
he observed his well filled book-shelves on the wall over the landing, that he 
saw he kept his books by double entry. Without any other jjarticular feature 
to attract attention than its pleasant outlook and extreme simplicity, the house 
bears unmistakable indication of extreme old age. It is so rambling and 
full of nooks and corners, there is so much of it, and so quaint and canny, 
that a])art even from its massy and venerable exterior, to which two large 
windows within the gable lend especial dignity, it seems exactly the abode 
for poet to be born and In'ed in. 

Immediately after the battle of Lexington, April 10, 177.">, the Americans 
collected by thousands in Cambridge to defend their chartered rights, and 
this house was selected by Artemas AVard, their general-in-chief. for his 
headquarters. Here were planned the occupation of Bunker's Hill and 
the raid on the islands. Upon General Washington's assuming connnand 
in July, Ward was assigned to the command of the right wing in Koxbury, 
I'utnam of the centre in Cambridge, and Lee with Sullivan and Greene as his 
brigadiers on Winter Hill, Lee's lieadquarters being at what in an invitation to 
Washington he calls Hobgoblin Hall. The Holmes house continued to be 
used for army purposes and for the committee of public safety duruig the 
siege, the common in front forming part of the camp. In the long, low 
dining-room fronting on the common, and separated from the parlor by a 
double vestibule, lighted by small heavily sashed windows on either side, and 
opening by another main door out iu that direction, AVard entertained 
Washington and the other generals soon after their arrival, tho banquet, if not 
biilliant in its ap|)ointments, having been eidivened, trailiti4m tells us, by 
IKitriotic songs. In an attic little disturbed by the changes of a century, is 
pointed out a closet where was placed a barrel for army correspondence, 
whicli the day after Buidier-Hill stootl filled with letters home. Here Gen- 
eral Warren rested on his way to that Itattle in which he lost his life, riding 
down iVvim Newton — where he had liei-n engaged the previous night in j>ro- 
fessional occui)ation in a case of nativity, the day before having been jiasse*! 
in le<fislative duties. It was the frequent resort of many well-known 



24 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

personages subsequently distinguished in civil or military service, then witla 
the legislature in Watertown or with the army. 

The lot was originally assigned in 1707 to Jabez Fox. His heirs in 1737 
conveyed it to Jonathan Hastings, father of a son of the same name long 
steward of the college, who in 1792 sold it to Prof. Pearson. From him 
in 1807 it passed to Judge Oliver Wendell, who left the estate at his death in 
1818 to his daughter Mrs. Holmes, for whose use he had purchased it. 

Close by the Holmes mansion, at the corner near the common, stood an 
inn, famous in former days as the Red Lion Tavern. Near it, or possibly 
forming part of it, is the present residence of Mr. Royall Morse. Between 
this corner and North avenue stands an ancient dwelling, looking old and 
grim enough to have had a history. On the northwest of the common are 
three more, one of which was formerly occupied by Dr. "Waterhouse, of 
some celebrity in his day, who, born in Newport in an old house still stand- 
ing there, and educated at the expense of Abraham Redwood, after whom 
its library is named, was a medical professor of the college. He married a 
great niece of Judge Lee. Near the site of the new church of St. John's , 
on Brattle street many years ago existed an old mansion, in its later days the 
residence of Aaron Hill. In some of its apartments were hangings of 
much artistic merit, painted on canvass, which are still remembered. 

Farther along on the road to Mount Auburn, beyond where Judge 
Story so long resided and opposite the above mentioned church, stands, 
in admirable preservation, one of the most interesting, as it is one of the 
most ancient mansions in Cambridge. It is now owned and occupied by 
our excellent and venerable fellow-citizen, Samuel Batchelder, whose gen- 
erous hospitalities often throng its many apartments with youth and beauty, 
the worth and wisdom of Cambridge and its neighborhood. It is still an 
elegant as it is a commodious dwelling, and presents towards the lawn and 
river, as towards the road, elevations of unusual stateliness. Its large 
dimensions, sombre tints and venerable appearance, suggested to college 
companions something uncanny, which impression was heightened by the 
rumors afloat in its neighborhood of tragedies that had taken place beneath 
its roof. An acquaintance from the south in the'law department had in those 
days his abode in what is now the dining-room, and sitting by the summer 
moonlight at its windows it was not difficult to conjure up, out of what was 
known or conjectured, many a weird vision of its ancient inhabitants. 

Early in the last century it belonged to the Belchers. The first Andrew, 
wlio in 1639 married Elizabeth Danforth of Cambridge, removed there from 
Sudbury, and died 1080. His son Andrew married, 1670, Sarah Gilbert 
of Hartford, was an eminent merchant, and died in Boston in 1717. Jona- 
tlian, son of Andrew, born 1082, 11. C. 1699, was governor of the Bay, 
1730 to 1741, and died governor of New-Jersey, 1757. Andrew, H. C. 



OLD CAMIJUIDGK AND NEW. 2'j 

1724, and Jonathan, 1728, sons of Governor Bflclicr, were persons of rc- 
spoctaljility, and Andrew, his i^randson, wlio married Miss Geyer of Boston, 
was the father of Sir Edward, wijose scientilic and other services in tlie 
British navy won him wich'-sprcad reputation and his liaronetev. 

Tile estate passed from tiie Belchers in 1720, through Mercy Tihhetts, in 
17.")G, to John Vassall, son of Leonard, who, two years after his first wife 
died in 1739, conveyed it to his brother Ilenr}-, with the furniture, chaise, 
four-wheeled chaise, two bay stone horses, two bhick geldings, and otlier 
things pleasant to possess. The land embraced an area of seven acres, 
besides thirty acres of pasture on the south bank of the river. Henry 
married, in 1741, Penelope Koyall of Medford. In 1747 he purchased of 
his brother, the Samuel Bell estate, adjoining his own, and afterwards 
another acre was added on the west side of the road. All this projiei-ty, 
except the thirty-acre lot, forms part of the present estate. Henry 
died in 17iji), l)ut his widow long survived him, if we may judge from the 
date of the administration on her estate in 1807, taken out by the children 
of her only child, who married Dr. Charles IJussell. The liouse passed 
through James Pitts, in 1770, Nathaniel Tracy and Thomas Pussell, in 17'.>2, 
to Andrew Craigie, who owned and occupied the Longfellow mansion oppo- 
site, wluK^ his brother-in-law, INIr. Bossinger Foster, for several years was 
the occui)ant of this, which was purchased by Mr. Batchelder in 1842. 

The mansion, during these several ownerships, nnderwent many changes, 
the date of which cannot now be easily ascertained. Although minute 
description may be wearisome to minds impatient of such homely details, to 
the antiquarian, measurements and proportions, internal arrangements and 
distribution of apartments are indispensable to convey any precise idea of 
what the house actually is. In half a century it will probably have ceased 
to exist, but it is too excellent a dwelling, too suggestive of the modes and 
fashions of other days, to be permitted to pass out of mind. 

In front, extended some distance along Brattle street, initil recently, a 
low brick wall, buttressed and capped. On the south side of the house, whi<'h 
stands thirty feet from the old line f)f the road which is now being widened, 
is an ancient door, leading into the hall with drawieg rooms twenty feet sipiare 
on either si(k\ and a staircase between. This hall opens beyond into a saloon 
^\ ilii rounded end, running through the housi' and opening into a conser- 
vatory towards the lawn. 15eyond the salocMi is another haM<lsome stair- 
case, between the dining I'oom l)ack, an<l lilirary towards the i-nad. l-'mm 
the dining room extends a long range of I)uiltlings, with windows indieatin:: in 
their heavy sash(>s and small panes an early period of provincial history. This 
wing ontains two kitchens and olHces, and several otlier apartments. The 
slee|)ing rooms on the secon<I lloor correspond in nundxr and arrani^ement 
with the parlors below, [)reserving, in their ancient i»anelling. (Imtrs and 



26 OLD CAMBEIDGE AND NEAV. 

saslies, even more obvious marks of eld. Several of the rooms down stairs 
are panelled, and the chimney-places are of the liberal size that were usual 
when walnut and hickory were customary fuel. 

Outside, towards the river, the elevation is broken into two projections 
with the conservatory between them, the sky Kne boldly defined by two 
gables only partially concealed by the wing. All about the house are large 
trees of great. age, besides lilacs and other shrubs, gnarled and mossy, which 
tell clearly enough how many generations have passed away since they 
were jjlanted. 

On the other side of the road from Mr. Batchelder's is the well known man- 
sion of Mr. Longfellow, known as the Craigie House, and also as General 
Washington's headquarters. It was erected in 1759 by Col. John Vassall, 
grandson of Leonard and son of that John who sold to his brother Henry the 
house just described. It may be safely said that no dwelling in New-England 
of its date remains, more spacious or elegant than this. It stands back one 
hundred and fifty feet from the road, and is surrounded by large open spaces 
' on either side, that to the north being of several acres in extent. The shade 
trees are elms of the noblest, and there are other sorts including fruit trees 
and ornamental shrubs in great variety. The front, stately, of graceful pro- 
portions and harmonious decoration, is a pleasure to behold. On either side 
run broad and well-sheltered piazzas, the front including them being over 
eighty feet. The door is massive, and its ponderous fastenings and brasses 
the same as when Washington made it his home in the memorable winter 
of 75. The hall, twelve feet in breadth, contains the broad square staircase 
with landings, to which poetic genius has given a special association with 
the father of his country. 

The drawing-room is of great height for the period, some twenty feet in 
either dimension, wainscoted in panels elaborately carved, the mantel with 
Corinthian pilasters on either side. In it hangs a fine painting, by Copley, 
of the second Sir William Pepperell and his sister as children. Across the 
entry from this apartment is the study, a bright, sunny room, and behind it 
the library of noble proportions, thirty feet in length, with columns diversify- 
ing the longer side opposite the windows. Between this and the dining-room, 
which is nearly as handsome an apiirtmcnt, rises another principal staircase as 
])road and as much decorated as that in the front hall. Beneath, the cellar 
walls are of special stability, a portion of them in handsome brickwork, 
w^hich seem of date more recent than the rest. 

#Col. Vassall having left it, the house for nine months that the siege of 
Boston lasted was the abode of Washington. From it were addressed those 
admirable letters which organized rebellion into successful revolution. There 
o-athered his generals in council, there came to confer with him the patriot 
leaders belono-jn"- to the legislative body at Watertown, and within its spacious 



OLD CAMiminOE AND XK\V. 27 

apartinoiits occurred many an intt-restin^ incidtiit which his lii();rra|>Iicrs 
have wortliily narrated. After the war, the i>r(i|ierty was soM lo Nathaniel 
Tracy, of Newburyport, wlio eonvcyetl it to 'J'hoinas Russell in 178G, and 
in 17'.)o it linally passed to Andrew Crai<iie, who long dwelt tln-re, and 
in whose time it consisted of nearly two hundred acres. Mr. C'raiijie mar- 
ried tlie daiii,diter of Kcv. Bezaleel Shaw, II. C ITCii', settled at Nantucket, 
a near relative of the late Chief Justice. lie possessed a hands(jme estate, 
and was fond of display, lie purchased the handsome criuipaife and four 
tine horses, which had been the property of the Duke of Kent when in 
JJoston, and was exclusive enough in his habits to provoke the ill-w ill of his 
neighbt)rs. AVhen he built an ice-cellar with a summer-house over it, near 
the site of the present Observatory, and extensive green-houses, they prog- 
nosticated no good could come to one who flew in the face of Providence, 
spiting the summer with his ice and the winter with his flowers. IIi; was 
liberal in his hospitality, and his widow, who long made the house her home 
after his death, maintained its character. It was at dillerent times the resi- 
dence of Edward Everett, Jared Sparks, and of Joseph AVorcester, tliQ distin- 
guished lexicograi)her, but for the last quarter of a century it has been the 
abode of one who, renowned as he is in letters, has also won laurels to be 
cherished in the affectionate regard of his countrymen. Under its roof have 
been com)t()sed most of those excpiisite productions of his genius which have 
made him famous over the world, and which in all time must invest his 
abode with associations not likely to fade. 

Farther up lirattle street than the Longfellow mansion alrcaily destrihed, 
are several other handsome dwellings mentione<l by the IJaroncss I\ie<lesel 
in her memoirs. She says there were, before the war, seven families cdn- 
nected by relationship or who lived in great intimacy, who had here farms, 
gardens and s])lendid mansions, and not far oil" orchards; and the buildings 
were a quarter of a mile distant from each other. The ownt-rs wen- in ihi- 
habit of assembling every afternoon in one or other of their Ikiuscs. and (if 
diverting themselves with music or dancing. They lived in ailiuence. in <,'(iod 
humor and without care, until the war dispersed them ami tiansfornied all 
these houses into solitary abodes. 

"\Vhcn, after her husband was wounded in 1 77s at Saratoga, she came with 
Rurgoyne's army, which had been there surrenden'<l, to Canibridge, where 
it was placed in cantonments, she occupied the house then nearest the 
Longfellow mansion, which was built about 1700 by Richard Lechmere. 
He was son of Thomas, brother of Lord Nicholas Lechmere, an eminent 
lawyer, who died in 1727. Thomas was here as early :vs 1722. standing in 
that year sponsor at the baptism of an ancestral namesake, and married a 
daughter of "Wait Winthrop. Lechmere, who before the war cfuiveyed the 
estate to Jonathan Sewall, attorney -gi-neral of the province, is believed to 



28 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. • 

have resided subsequently in the house on Tremont street, next to where 
the Albion stands, and which Cooper has introduced eftectively into his 
novel of Lionel Lincolp. The parties to this conveyance of the Cambridge 
property will recall the well known suit brought by Sewall in 17G9 against 
Lechmere, in favor of a slave demanding his freedom, and which was decided 
in favor of the negro. The case is often claimed to have been the first in 
which the question was definitively settled, abolishing slavery in Massachu- 
setts, although historically it existed a few years later. Sewall, H. C. 1748, 
married Esther, daughter of the fourth Edmund Quincy and sister of Mrs. 
Governor Hancock. Pie was, as well as Lechmere, a refugee loyalist, and 
appointed by the crown judge of admiralty for Nova Scotia and New- 
Brunswick, died at St. John's in 1796. 

The house was later occupied by one of the best of men, Mr. Joseph 
Foster, as the writer, who on Sundays often dined with him when in college, 
would be ungrateful not to remember. The first Mrs. Foster was daughter 
of John Cutler, the popular grand master of the masons, who as such 
officiated at the funeral solemnities in Boston, when Washington died, in 
1799. She was one of a numerous family noted for personal attractions 
largely represented in their descendants. The second, when he married 
her, was the widowed mother of the late William D. Sohier, long a prominent 
leader of the Suffolk bar, and well remembered for his professional attain- 
ments, practical sagacity, ready wit and kind heart. Mr. Foster had several 
brothers, one of whom, Bossinger, occupied the Batchelder mansion. A 
dau<Thter of William married Harrison Gray Otis, nephew of James, both as 
preeminent for eloquence as the former for the elegance of his manners and 
social graces ; her two sisters were successively wives of Col. Apthorp, and 
their brothers were William, Leonard and Charles, the latter of whom at the 
ao'e of eight-seven is the only survivor. Thus widely connected and universal- 
ly beloved, a large circle of later generations more or less entitled grew up to 
call Mr. Foster by the endearing appellation suggested by their degree of affi- 
nity, one which is more than usually significant where the sentiment as in his 
case was of such affectionate respect. The house in his time was especially 
attractive from his cordial welcome and pleasant ways, and one to many of 
a'l-reeable associations and frequent resort. It was a large and roomy structure, 
possessing no peculiar feature for remark ; but when fiung wide open in the 
summer noon-day, the air laden with fragrance from field and garden, hum of 
insect and song of bird, its fair proportions, simple grace and exquisite order 
and freshness combined to render it a fitting abode for the genial host and 
hostess who dispensed its hospitalities. Its ancient memories were carefully 
cherished, and on a window pane was to be seen an inscription with a 
diamond by Baroness Riedesel, when she was its occupant. 

These several dwellings, occupied by members of the English establish- 



OLD CAMIJHIDGE AND NEW. 29 

ment and .itteiulunts of Christ Clmrcli, wore known as Cluirdi Row. Tradi- 
tion informs us that at each of tliein annually were given social entertain- 
ments to the i>resident, professors and tutors of the college, and tliis from a 
sense of propriety rather than congeniality or inclination, for the rest of tln« 
year they lived among themselves or with their acquaintances and kinsfolk 
from other places. They were men of education and large fortune. Pro- 
ductive plantations in the West Indies contributed to the princely revenues 
of some of them, others were costly in lands or other property nearer home. 
Their houses abounded in rich plate, valuable paintings and furniture of the 
best, their shelves were laden with books, capacious and well arrangt'd 
wine cellars denote their abounding hospitality, the long distances and scanty 
public conveyances would compel the inference, if tradition were wanting, 
that their stjibles were well stocked with tlie best of steeds. Close by 
Charles river and Fresh pond, Mt. Auburn with its forests near at hand 
and the country beyond of great picturesque beauty, their lot was indeed 
cast in pleasant places. 

They were all akin. Oliver had married Col. Vassall's sister, Vassall had 
married his. The mother of Col. Vassall, Mrs. Lee, and Mrs. Lechmero 
were sisters, daughters of Lt.-Gov. Spencer Phips. Hon. David Phips, 
who lived where later William "NVinthrop erected the handsome house now 
standing e:vst of the Apthorp mansion, was their brother. The wife of George 
Rnggles was Leonard Vassall's daughter, and aunt of Col. John. Kuggles 
sold his estate to Mrs. Fayerweather in 1774 for two thousand pounds, taking 
for half the jmrchase money the Leonard Vassall estate on Summer Street 
in Boston, which had descended to her from her father, Thomas Hubbard. 
The estates of Lee and Mrs. Henry Vassall were not confiscated in the war, 
but John Vassall's, Sewall's and Oliver's were all forfeited. Brattle's was se- 
questered but restored. This pleasant circle of refined enjoyment thus came 
to an end, and not one single descendant of their names remains in America. 
Some of them survived to an advanced age, Lee dying in 1802 at ninety- 
three ; Phii)s at eighty-seven ; Lechmere, who greatly regretted having letl 
America, in 1814 at the same age ; and Oliver in 1815 at eighty-two, the 
two last in Bristol, England. The reader is already familiar with the Brat- 
tle, Vassall and Lechmere mansions. Some mention should be made of two 
more before we close. 

The mansion next west of the Lechmere house was the residence of Judge 
Lee, and down to 18G0 belonged to one of his family- It has the reputation 
of Ijeing the 6ldest building in Caml)ridge certainly, dating much earlier than 
any other of equal note still remaining in anything approaching its pristine 
condition. Its foundations and mason work are cemented with clay, and this 
confirms the popular belief that it was erected before the days of Charles the 
Second, for lime came in this ueigliborhood into use for mortar at a later 



30 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND KEW. 

period, clay mixed, with pulvei'ized oyster shells being previously used instead. 
Its oak timbers, where exposed to view, present the same indications of 
extreme age as those in the cellar of the Edmund Quincy house in Quiucy, 
now occupied by Mr. Butler. Although more elegant than the houses of 
the same period in Ipswich, it has to them many points of resemblance. 
The central chimney, twelve feet in either direction, is built on the natural 
surface of the ground, cellars being excavated on either side, one of them hav- 
ing a sub-cellar for fruit. The rooms are arranged in the same mode 
around the chimney, which thus afforded spacious fire-places to the drawing 
room on one side, to the keeping room on the other, and to what was -origi- 
nally the kitchen, but now a handsome dining room, in the rear. 

The house is over sixty feet front, and the parlors and rooms over 
them would be twenty by twenty-six were it not that in many of them, as 
in the Ipswich houses, a portion of the end six feet in breadth opposite the 
fire places was partitioned off, in the keeping room for a study, in the cham- 
bers above for bed or dressing rooms, the window between either slmt off" by 
a glass door or set as it were in a recess. The object was protection against the 
cold. All the heat radiating from the centre stack, the portion of the rooms 
farthest removed, the end wall being imperfectly sealed and windows not very 
tight, would have lost its warmth with the thermometer below zero, but for 
this shield. The drawing room, however, preserves all its plenitude of size, 
and appears the larger for its low ceilings, -across which and around which 
extend engaged beams. The paper hangings, as in other apartments, are 
in designs of former days, landscape and buildings, men and beasts, like 
those of the Lse house in Marblehead and probably as ancient, those having 
been placed there under the King. Out of the drawing room, as in all the 
better houses of two centuries ago, opened a door into the kitchen and another 
into a sleeping room of handsome proportions, and between them was an 
enclosed staircase and door towards the stables. 

The main staircase in the front hall opposite the principal door of entrance 
leads up in front of the chimney stack, and is of easy ascent and handsome 
construction. The hall projects beyond the front of the house, as in the 
AVaterhouse and Holmes mansions on the common and in the old Dunster 
house formerly on Harvard street, windows on either side of the porch so 
formed affording light and contributing to cheerfulness. The windows are 
peculiar, of great breadth for the height, indeed nearly squai-e, and in their 
original state were no doubt glazed in lozenge panes set in leaden lattices. 
The floors are not all level. This would seem the effect of age, were it not 
that in other ancient houses it was evidently from design. At Little 
Harbor in the Wentworth, and in the Barrell house at York, some of the 
l^rincipal rooms vaiy in level several feet. There is a step down into the 
dining-room in this house from the drawing room, and its floor is an inch 



(ji.i) cAMiiKiix;!: .\M> m;w. 31 

or more above that of the hall. Besides the two flights of stairs mentioned, 
there is another from a hall leading out of the keepin"^ room. 

Above are several jileasant sleeping rooms on two floors. Vmck of 
those on the upper formerly ran a gallery, sixty feet by twelve or liftfcii, 
now divided into chambers. In its furniture there is a hapjiy eomltination 
of modi'ni with ancient; one delightful apartment, with its superb four-poster, 
decorated cal)inets ami hangings like tapestry, its small dressing rooms par- 
titioned oti', being peculiarly attractive. The great fire places have disaj)- 
pcarcd, and modern simplicity eschews the gorgeous attire of richly tinttd 
satins and velvets ablaze with gold lace and paste diamonds then in vogue ; 
but no one can visit one of these old mansions in a good state of jireserva- 
tion. permitted by the good taste of its occupants to retain the character- 
istics of the olden time, without observing at every turn some peculiarity, 
not only to attract attention but to raise a doubt whether the arts of life 
a^ they advance arc altogether improvements. 

Sitting a few afternoons since in its delightful drawing-room, with the 
amiable hostess of the mansion, she mentioned several traditions connected 
with the house. Among others, she described the incidents of a festal 
occasion a century ago in that very apartment, related to her by a maiden 
lady long since passed away at an advanced age. It was perhaps rash to 
promise to put it into jirint, but promises the least reasonable should l)e 
respected. The lady said that the occupants of this aristocratic rpiarter 
made it their especial pride and boast that they hail no work to do. and 
entertained little respect for those that had. As the daughter of the presi- 
dent of the college, however, an exception was made in her favor, and she 
was in lier girlhood invited to a June festivity at Judge Lee's. It was a 
strawberry party, that fruit being then raised on these places in great pro- 
fusion and of rare excellence. The company assembled early in the after- 
noon in costly apparel, and their manners excessively polite were much more 
formal an<l ceremonious than anything we know. Eating and drinking then 
constituted a principal part of social entertainments, and there was a cease- 
less round of waiters loaded with jellies and creams and other pleasant 
contrivances, with wine and lemonade, of which it was considered good 
breeding lii)erally to partake. Conversation or social interchange appeared 
sonuwhat secondary to the duty of refieshment, and when ample justice had 
been done, to this ambulatory repast, as ilusk dci'pened into night, the guests 
took their leave. They probably had gayer times in those good old days of 
wliich Baroness Kiedesel tells us. 

The estate extended to Fresh pond, and also it is believed to the river, 
an<l consisting of good soil was well cultivated and productive. In the rear 
of the majision were clustered every variety of subordinate building an. I 
oHlce essential to an extensive farm, when persons of means killed their 



32 OLD CAMBKIDGE AND NEW. 

own mutton, made tlieir cider and beer, and wove their own cloth. These 
buildino-s being in a decayed condition when the present occupant entered 
into possession, were removed. A century ago the house stood remote from 
any other, evidently in its day, as it is even now, a dwelling of unusual 
elef^ance, and than which when erected there could have been few out of 
the larger towns superior in the province. If not substantially rebuilt 
when Judge Lee purchased it, in 1758, it was probably altered and improved 
by him. Much of the finish dates from that period. He bought it of Faith, 
widow of Cornelius Waldo, to whom it was conveyed in 1733 by Dr. Henry 
Hooper, son of Richard, also a physician, settled in Watertown. Of the 
family who for more than a century were, proprietors of this interesting relic 
of the past, and many of whom have been generous contributors to the 
college and other public objects, some brief account may not be out pf place. 

Thomas Lee, father of the Judge, died in 1766, at the age of ninety-three, 
having in his long and useful life as a builder of ships and in commerce in 
Boston accumulated a large estate. His name, formerly inscribed over one 
of its library alcoves, indicated that he had been a benefactor of the college, 
where his sons graduated, Thomas in 1722, and Joseph in 1729. Gov. 
Phips, whose daughter Joseph married, died in 1757, and her iidieritance 
united with his own made them rich. He was much esteemed and popular, 
but his appointment by the crown in 1774 to the council contrary to tlie 
provisions of the provincial charter created some prejudice against him, and 
with his neighbor Oliver he was mobbed. He found it prudent to leave 
Cambridge, and went first to Philadelphia and subsequently to New-Jersey, 
but having influential friends among the patriots, his property was not con- 
fiscated and he soon returned and resumed possession. Having no children 
he built a house to the left of his own for his nephew Thomas, to whom he 
left the Cambridge estate, and whose daughter, Mrs. Carpenter, still owned 
part of it with the mansion down to 18 GO. Another daughter was the 
second wife of Dr. Waterhouse, and his son George Gardner Lee, H. C. 
1792, who died in 1816, was an officer in our navy. The widow of George, 
dauc^hter of Dr. Sawyer of Newburyport, was the well known authoress of 
the Three Experiments of Living and other popular works. 

Joseph, the other nephew of the Judge, married the sister of George 
Cabot, and left six sons, Joseph, Nathaniel, George, Thomas, Hem y .lud 
Francis, besides daughters, one the first wife of Judge Jackson, and two 
never married. Henry, an eminent and much respected merchant, was the 
well known writer on political economy, the friend and corres]iou(lent of 
Tooke, Cobden and Ricardo, IMcCullock and numerous other Englisli statis- 
ticians. Thomas, who married the sister of the saintly Buckminster, also a 
distinguislicd authoress, was a benefactor of Hai'vard. He adorned our 
Commonwealth Avenue INIall with a fine granite statue of Alexander Ham- 



OLD CA.AininDoi: and m:av. 33 

ilton, by Kinnner, ami our public gaideii with a inoniiinont, the joint pro- 
duction of Ward and A'an Brunt, representing the (lood Samaritan, in 
coniineuioration of tlie discovery of anicsthetics. Its ohjt-ct was to preserve 
the credit of this ahnost unparalleled blessing to huinaniiv, to the citv of 
many notions, where it justly belongs, though KdinliMrL;h lavs claim for 
the late Sir James Simpson to the ai)pIicatiou later of chloroform as a sub- 
stitute for ether. 

Approaching ^It. .Vuburn. about a mile in distance from tin; colle<res, 
whert! Brattle street, after many bends to avoid formerly existing marshes, 
and .Mt. Aul)arn running nearer the river bound it on either side, stands 
Elmwood, the birth-place and jiresent abode of James Russell Lowell. His 
name is sulficiently well known in the world of letters to recall that bniad 
and brimming tide of sense and humor, which in prose and verse has chai-m- 
ed and refreshed for a generation all who speak our language. Our l)i'st 
and earliest satirist, his shafts have never been steeped in venom or in the 
gall of bitterness; but winged with nietlicaments pleasant and salutary, 
reach their mark, eradicating numberless follies and foibles without leaving 
behind them either wound or scar. As a moralist it is his pleasure to dwell 
on the sunny side of humanity, preferring what attracts to what repels, and 
knowing well how to mingle sound and healthy sentiment with what- 
ever can amuse or entertain. The successor of Mr. Longfellow in the 
])rofessorship of literature, and with its whole range familiar, genial and 
friendly, excelling in strength mental and bodily, conscientious of laltor and 
always ahead of his work, he ranks high as an author, teacher and in personal 
merit, and possessed of this delightful home abounding in books and woiks 
of art, it would seem, if any one, he ought to be content. 

But our object is not to pay tribute to his genius but to that of his place, 
which has memories to be preserved. Hie house was erected about 17(i<) by 
Thomas Oliver, the hvst provincial Lieut.-Governor. Oliver, not of the family 
of that name most distinguished in our history, was born in Dorchester in 
1733, and graduating at Harvard in 17.33 married, as we have already stated. 
Elizabeth, the sister of Major John Vassall, who built the Ivongfellow 
mansion. Possessed of a handsome fortune and a gentleman of exc«'llent 
(|ualitii's, he was much beloved and respected, but as a mandamus councillor 
provokeil (he n^s^•lltluell^ of the patriots. Septendur 2, 1771. lliev sin-- 
rouiided his house, thousamls in inuuber, one <piarler part of them armed, tle- 
manding his resignation. Nothing dauutetl ho refused, but w hen violence was 
threatcne<l, alarmeil for the safety of his family, he wrote on the paper olh>red 
for his signature: "^ly house at Cambridge being surrounded by four thousand 
people, in cotiipliance with their cinumands, I sign my name Thomas Oliver."' 
Tlit^ throng were at first indignant, but wt-re finally induced by their leaders to 
withdraw, liepairiiig to lV>«>ton be dissuaded Cieiieral (lage from sending 



34 



OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEAV. 



out troops, lest it should lead to bloodshed. He remained in the capital till 
the British evacuated it in March, 177G, and going to England died there 
in Bristol in 1815. The next occupant of any historical importance was 
Elbridge Gerry, who after a long and distinguished career in the public 
■ service, died in 1813, Vice-President of the United States, at Washington, 
where his monument is to be seen in the Congressional burying gi-ound. 
In 1817 the estate was purchased by Rev. Charles Lowell, son of Judge 
Lowell, who resided there till his death in 18G1, when it descended to his 
youngest son the poet. 

The hou«e, which measures fifty-two feet front by forty-two in depth, is 
substantially built, of handsome proportions and decorations, of three stories 
in elevation, the upper with square windows of less height than those below. 
The lower rooms are eleven feet in stud, and where wainscoted are in panel- 
work of much simple elegance but not elaborately carved. The drawing- 
room in the south corner, for the compass lines are diagonal, is a peculiarly 
cheerful and attractive apartment. On either side of its spacious fire- 
place, wherein reposes an immense yule log, and which is cased about in 
wainscot, are deep recesses finished with panels of great breadth, that to 
the left lighted by a window on to the lawn. Among other works of art 
in this apartment is one of AUston's finest Salvator Rosa landscapes. 
Back of the drawing-room is the library, its walls covered with books, 
except on the side of the fire-place, which is panelled in good taste 
and ends in a cornice of wood, well composed but unpretending. The ar- 
rangement of the other rooms is that usual in the square mansions of the 
period, the dining-room in front being capacious and well proportioned. 

A hall eight feet in width extends from front to rear, opening with broad 
glass doors at either end towards the grounds. It contains a double stair- 
case reaching a common landing front and back, three or four stej^s from the 
level of the second floor. The walls abound in ancient portraits ; one of 
the Russell family of the reign of Queen Bess on panel is an excellent pic- 
ture in good jareservation. In a niche in the front staircase is a copy of one 
of the most exquisite remains of ancient art in the Vatican, sujjposed to be 
a work of Phidias. 

As the dwelling has been occupied for half a century hj the same fixmily, 
one connected with many of those most aftiuent in colonial times, all about 
are articles, chairs and cabinets, of great antiquity, too handsome to be 
superseded by any of modern contrivance. A secretary of innumerable 
drawers and cupboards from the family of Cutts in Portsmouth, from whom 
the poet is descended, a broad and well harmonized piece of embroidery, 
the handiwork of an ancestress of that name, are in an upper library. In 
the same apartment is a painting on wood of seven clergymen of the olden 
time in wigs and clerical costume, sitting at tabic smoking their pipes, their 



OLD CAMHIIIDtiE AM) M^V. 35 

coiin(onauces indicating how niucli they were anniseil at somegocnl story that 
had heeii narrated. One of them, liowever, preserves his {gravity, his satur- 
nine expression clearly nianifestiiiif its inability to unhend thoujfh Nestor's 
self had sworn the jest were laughable. The picture was brought from the 
manse, still standing in Ncwburyport, of the great grandfather of the poet, 
Rev. John Lowell, who occuj)ies in the picture the place of host at the table. 
It formerly decorated the mantel of the library of this excellent pastor, 
whose fondness for fun and kindliness of nature, far removed from the austerity 
usually associated with his profession in puritan times, never lost him either 
the respect or ad'ection of his flock. There are other relics of much interest. 
On the window pane is an inscription, Libertas I77(i ; and dents in llit- 
wootlwork made with tlie bayonet also date back to llw days that trieil men's 
souls. The rafters in the garret are of solid oak, and the window sashes 
throughout the house are of old fashioned solidity, and the shutters look as 
if intended for protection against other enemies than tiie weather. 

The view from the upper windows extends far down the Charles, which 
gracefully curls between banks heavily wooded and prettily diversified. 
There are around few marks of habitation. Indeed, in all its surroundings, 
the place meets the requirements of Lord Bacon, for from man}- standpoints 
there is not a house to be seen. The grounds, in part still surrounded by 
the mossy park paling more often seen in P^nglaud than here, are studde,j 
with English elms, one of them the largest in the county, and two on the 
back lawn, probably of the American species, form a fine pointed arch. 
There are other varieties and many evergreens. The turf spreads smooth 
and far, losing itself among the trees, the vistas presenting rural grace and 
beauty, inspiring repose and conducive to contemplation. 

The domain is not extensive, but all around are l)road stretches of the finest 
forest scenery. Mt. Auburn with its nearly two hmidred acres forty years ago 
formeil part of the large estate, extending from the river bank, of the Stones, 
held by them from the earliest settlement under an Indian deed. Its sylvan 
glades were a favorite haunt of young collegians, whose active imagination 
peopled its wild and romantic dingles with sprites and fairies. When for 
sale, chance brought it into the possession of George lirinuner, whose goo<l 
taste led to its appropriation for a cemetery, the first of a class now number- 
less over the land. In its chapel, among other statues commemorative of dif- 
ferent historical epochs, is that of James Otis, by Crawford, our finest work 
of art. South of the cemetery on the river bank is the palatial residence 
of 3Irs. Winchester, with its handsome pleasure grounds, and in another 
direction across Brattle street are some hundreds of acres about Fresh 
pond, a broad sheet of water with charming paths and avenues around, the 
property in part, for more than two centuries, of the Wyeths, now of one of 
the ice kings who supplies thousands of families with the best and purest 
of that conunodity from its crystal waters. 



36 OLD CAMBRIDGE AKD NEW. 

We have readied the uj^per bounds of Cambridge, and exhausted our 
limits and the patience of our readers. If we have made mistakes it has 
not been always easy to avoid them. There is little to plead in extenuation 
but the wish to rescue facts from oblivion, which, if of no general interest, 
will be of the greatest to remote generations, whose progenitors were asso- 
ciated with these venerable relics of by-gone days. Description of dwell- 
ings built for utility and with little reference to taste, is of course monotonous, 
and pedigrees, unless our own or those of our acquaintances, are dull in the 
extreme. But Cambridge is an exceptional place. It is classic ground, not 
to its alumni alone, but to all who take pride or pleasure in American cul- 
ture. The traditions clustering around it are well worthy of preservation. 
Full justice to the subject demands a volume, which with more precious in- 
formation and less superficial, the public may soon hope to possess from 
Mr. Paige. Our paths are simply antiquarian. We leave to abler pens the 
weightier matters of history. 

Note to p. 12.— Mather says that it was President Rogers who made tlie long prayers. 



A FTEK-GLE ANINGS. 



It is neither our liopc nor tlesiijn, if we could, to exhaust a suhject which 
might well be intlefinitcly extended. AVe should still ho pleased to emhrace 
in our present puhlieation whatever we can glean of the college or domestic 
antiijuities of C'amljridge. Fear of overstepi)ing limits prescribed or of 
sid)jeeting to too severe a strain the j)atienee of our readers, compelled a 
degree of repression in the Register, lint whatever concerns localities that 
have a history possesses an especial interest for those connected with tliem 
by personal or family associations, and we add a few particulars that we 
were compelled to omit or which have come to our knowledge while the 
foregoing pages were in the press. 

A conscientious desire to be exact in statement is the cardinal virtue 
of whoever presumes to impart information even from the by-paths of his- 
torical inquiry. To misrepresent, from inadvertence or neglect of any 
available source of information, is altogether uni)ardonable. Yet with the 
utmost solicitude to be correct, such contlicting impressions exist in the 
minds of those most favorably ])laced to be well informed as to matters, 
which are not of record but tradition, that some allowance nuist be made 
if after due research occasional inaccuracies are detected. 

There is one error towards the close of the foregoing account of Cam- 
bridge, which shows how easy it is to mislead and be misled. When 
inquiring at the fountain-head of information as to the extent of the cemetery 
at M{. Auburn, an accession of territory stated to have been recently made, 
sounded so much like seventy acres instead of seventeen, that it led to a 
greatly exaggerated estimate of its area. We are admonished, too, that 
our statement as to the locality of Thayer Ilall is not quite in conformity 
with truth, as the face of that building is some thirty feet back of the line 
of University. 

There prevails an uncertainty in the minds of persons long resident at 
Cambridge, as to the precise abode of Dunster, the first president. The 
hovisc formerly on Harvard square, at the corner of Dunster street, men- 
tioiKMl as his residence, is thought to have been erected after the close of 
his administration. Another of a style much more antiquated, with second 
story projecting over the lower, three gables in the roof towards the street, 
and a long sloping roof to the rear, stood thirty years since farther down 
Dunster street, in the rear of that once supposed to be his, and this is con- 
jectured to have been the house in which he dwelt, 
ti 



38 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

"Within the college enclosure, across the Square, still remained not manj 
years ago a commodious mansion, long occupied by Dr. Hedge, professor of 
metaphysics. It was built, according to tradition, by Sevvall, professor of 
Hebrew for the twenty years imor to 1785. The wing, which formerly 
constituted part of the Wadsworth house when the residence of the president, 
and was then used for his library and office, but which has been removed 
from the side of the building to its rear, is at present occupied by the steward 
for the business of his department. 

College Customs. 

Even to allude to the customs and usages, the habits and peculiarities of 
college life, its enjoyments or its discipline in former days, may appear 
the height of presumption to those better posted than ourselves. And yet 
so much has passed out of mind we would gladly recall, that no apology 
is needed for calling attention to the fact. We had been encouraged to 
believe that with the aid of surviving graduates of former years, and many 
whom we know of more recent classes, enough might be gathered to stimu- 
late inquiry, or at least awaken a sense of the importance of preserving what 
is still remembered. But even this hope is in a measure disappointed. 
Some little can be gleaned here and there from the laws and regulations of 
the college, its several histories, from Sidney Willard's Youth and Manhood, 
and Hall's College Words and Customs, as well as from biographies and 
mao"azine articles. Yet all these various sources of information convey but 
an insicrnificant portion of what tradition would probably yield to the dili- 
gent inquirer. 

Methods of study and modes of punishment, customary furniture and 
dress, the way in which students were fed in their refectories at different 
periods, would be entertaining could they be known. Since the time when, 
instead of admonitions private or public, it was customary for the president 
with his own hands to administer the discipline of the rod after engaging in 
prayer with the offender, when less flagrant violations of the rules were ex- 
piated with boxing or cuffing, b}^ the payment of shillings and pence, 
social life has undergone considerable changes. It seems difhcult to realize 
now that undergraduates should ever have been required to be fiimiliar 
with latin as with their own vernacular, or that they should have been com- 
pelled to go bareheaded in the college yard, take off their hats and hold 
them in hand when in presence of any member of the faculty. It is even 
more repuo'uant to all our notions of equality that one student should have 
been permitted to despatch another of a lower class upon his errands, 
teach him his manners, or subject him to more intolerable indignities. Yet 
such were the rules, and instances are recorded of expulsion for disobedience. 
Not longer ago than the revolution, even, fogging prevailed to some extent, 
seniors selecting freshmen for menial services, and there is a tradition of one 
of the latter throwing indignantly at his tormentor, the boots he was ordered 

to clean. 

Such usaf^es passed away with kingly rule, and with them another equally 
oratin"- to youthful pride. Graduates were arranged in the catalogue ac- 
cordin"- to "the supposed social position of their families, those being placed 
first who were connected with dignitaries or officials. Nor was this the only 
advantaf^e taken of the lowly. Kank in scholarship, the honors conferred, 
are said to have been greatly influenced by respect for authority, subservi- 



aftei;-<.m;am.\os. 



39 



enoc to jilace or cstntc. One expedient employed to deter students from 
commission of graver oHences, was degnidation to a lower plaet; on the i"oll 
than that to whieh they would have been otherwise entitled. 

When suspension from class studies, or rustication to the care and keeji- 
ing of country clergymen, as milder penalties than being compelled to 
take up connection with the college under sentence of expulsion, was 
introduced or discontinued, does not with certainty appear, but they were in 
use thirty years ago. The period of rustication was often employed iu 
keeping scliool, and the )>upils being freijuently more advanced in years than 
their teachers, it was not always easy to kee[) them in due subordination. In 
one instance the girls of riper age, of whom the school chictiy consisted, left 
their seats, and marching in array to the table of the master informed him that 
they had concluded to spend the day in an excursion into the woods, inviting 
him to be of the party. Deeming it best to sul)mit with good grace to 
wliat he could not control, he accepted their proposition and went. Poorer 
students, ix'fore the ju-esent munificent foundation of scholarships, already 
numbering between forty and lifty, were often allowed the |>rivilege of 
keeping school in order that they might earn something towards defraying 
the expenses of their own education. 

These expenses seem to have been exceedingly moderate at Cambridge. 
AVhen seven shillings and four pence was the charge, as the case a century 
ago, for a week's board in commons, the privilege of liberal culture was 
widely extcndeil. That the diet providetl was not very palatable, or even 
sullicient in quantity, is abundantly shown by disorderly ex])edients resorted 
to for redress, from the very earliest days of the college under master Eaton 
down to the close of the last century. Many resided out altogether; ninety 
students, prior to the erection of Ilollis, boarding as well as lodging outside 
the college enclosure. Richer students paid for commons, of which they 
never partook, and neither the overseers nor corporation, by the most 
rigorous laws, could compel attendance. The repasts, which at one period 
did not include breakfast, or at another supper, were given in Harvard, 
attached to the easterly end of which was the butter}-, where pastry and ale, 
as also stationery and implements for games, could be purchased. Cider, 
ale and beer constituted the principal beverages in the middle of the last 
century, though chocolate, coffee and tea were added about that time for 
breakfast. 

In provincial days students who could indulged in costly apparel; three- 
cornered hats and cues, small clothes and buckles, rutlles, not only at the 
bosom but at the cuffs, being generally worn. Gold lace and embroidery 
wereex|ii-essly discountenanced, but with little effect. In 178(>, a uniform was 
prescribed, which in IT'.K) was reffuired to be of blue-gray, with frogs and 
buttons to designate the diiVerent classes. (Jowns of calico or gingham in 
summer, and in winter of a woolen stuff called lambskin, were allowed in 
place of the coat exce]>t on occasions of solenniity. In 1822 the doth pre- 
s<M-ii)ed for the uniform was black or black mixed, with frogs and crows' 
feet, and black gowns were permitted as a substitute, but since 1H.'»;} there 
has existed no other regulation with regard to dress, but that students on 
certain special occasions shall wear a black coat and a black hat or cap. 

Any attempt to relate the history of the numerous rebellions which have 
occurred at Caml)ridge would be out of place. There formerly existed a 
chrouic antagonism between the government and students, breaking out on 



40 OLD ca:mbridge and new. 

the slightest pretext into overt act. The members of some years wei'e so 
numerously sentenced to expulsion as to be called, like those of 1807, 1822, 
1836, rebellion classes. One recent cause of disturbance was the objection- 
able practice of hazing, by which freshmen were subjected to drenching, 
smoking out and various other annoyances. As the average age becomes 
more advanced and the rules more sensible, whatever is unreasonable or 
opposed to fairness and propriety dies out. Fights between students and 
townsmen, provoked by the former, took place very regularly on muster 
days and at similar gatherings, one being remembered as late as 18o4. The 
prowess displayed by particular combatants in such encounters was often 
made the theme of their own self-adulation or that of their admirers. 

In England's Cambridge visitors gaze in chapel and hall on relics of 
silver and gold, votive offerings of eld. On the Harvard roll of donations 
are tankards and cups presented by the filial piety of her children. From 
less care, more frequent use, fire or other vicissitudes, many of these have dis- 
appeared. But the old arm chair in which all the presidents since Ilolyoke 
have sat at commencement, is extant, and one book that Harvard gave. There 
have besides accumulated numerous superb portraits of ancient worthies, 
benefactors and others, now in Massachusetts, by and bv to adorn Memorial 
Hall. 

College Clubs and Associations. 

Societies, more or less secret in their initiations and proceedings, abound 
at most of our American seats of learning, and Cambridge is no exception 
to the rule. Some of them are for literary improvement, some purely for 
social intercourse, generally both objects being united. No tradition is known 
to exist of any such association at Harvard earlier than the Institute of 
1770, a literary and social association still in existence. It has its rooms in 
Hollis, assigned by the government, and is composed of members taken from 
the Sophomore class, about one half their number being selected. The In- 
stitute has manifested at diflerent periods very different degrees of vitality. 
Its original object was literary, but its debates are now less frequent. The 
D. K. E. consists of thirty-five members, and is a secret society, to which 
belong members of the Freshman and Sophomore classes. The exercises 
with which it entertains itself are literary and social in character, and it is 
one of the most populai", being composed of the most prominent and ^lopular 
students. From these two societies are selected, for the most part, the 
candidates for the Hasty Puddings. 

The next in order to the Institute, as respects the date of its organization, 
is the Porcellian Club, established in 1791, with which, forty years later, was 
consolidated another, called the Kniglits of the Square Table, for similar 
objects, and consisting generally of the same members. Their "collections 
of books were originally kept in the rooms of their respective librarians, 
but two years after their union, in 1833, rooms were rented on Harvard 
Square. Their library rapidly augmenting in numbers and value, from the 
generosity of their members, is now estimated at more than twelve thousand 
well selected volumes. Th-e members — about ten from each of the two higher 
classes — make its club room their frequent resort for conversation or social 
recreation. Their chief dignitary is a grand master selected from the 
graduates, and a deputy from the senior class presides over their meetings. 

The Hasty Puddings, ranking high in scholarship, and mainly devoted to 



AFTEU-GLKAM\(i.>. 11 

mental improvement, have liatl tlie same rooms in the upper part of Stoui,'li- 
ton for inanv years. Here are held ri-guhir nmnthly niietinj^s f(jr litc-rary 
exercises and (h-amatie pt-rforniances, in which they excel. Their meeting's 
close with a repast of mush or hasty puddini^, niaile of Indian meal boiled, 
and for those who prefer it, also frii-d, which is made palataltle by niolasses 
or milk. In the strawberry season, tliat fruit is substituted. They have 
a library of about four thousand volumes, which contains some rare books. 
The society is among the most venerable of the Harvard clubs, dating back to 
179;). Its records are, according to all rei)orts, very amusing. 3Iend)er- 
ship is sought with avidity, notwithstanding initiations the reverse of agree- 
able. It is said some seventy-four pages of prose, and several hundred lines 
of verse are often reciuired of the acolyte. During his ])eriod of ja-obation, 
from ]\Ionday to Friday, he is in charge of oilicials, except when at recita- 
tion, at meals, or in bed, and he is compelled to go about to them at a run, 
speaking to no one. 

What are called the greek letter societies, of which there are several, are 
most of them of too recent an origin or of too evanescent a character for 
more than a passing allusion. The O. K., in existence as early as 1H.)'.>, 
meets once a fortnight for chat and collee. The Al])ha Delta is composed 
of seniors and Juniors taken from the D. K. E., and has its monthly meet- 
ings. The Psi Ui)silon, Zeta Phi and Ti Eta, are mystic symbols of clubs, 
with various objects, literary, social and convivial, upon whose ]>rivacy we 
have no right to intrude. The Signet, consisting of mend)ers of the senior 
class, is, it is presumed, somewhat of the same description. The Everett 
Athenanun, now in its fourth year, is of a different character, and from 
its life and spirit has given a new stimulus to the rest. The members are 
chosen in the sophomore year. ]\Ir. Wakefield, whose generous donation of 
one hundred thousand dollars for a dormitory back of Gore Hall has just 
been announced, has given recently to this club, live thousand dollars for its 
library, for which it is understood a Ijuilding is soon to be erecte<l. 

There have existed from time to time scientific associations at Cambridge, 
such as the Kumford Chemical, to which was assigned a room in the base- 
ment of ^lassachusetts ; the Ilermetick, also for the study of chemistry, 
merged in 182;J in the American Institute ; the Eranetic of 1820, devoted to 
mathematics, and the Harvard Natural History Society. A Kadical Clul) 
discusses social science. There are two musical associations of considerable 
antiijuity, the Pierian Sodality for instrumental, the Glee Club for vocal 
nnisic ; and as many if not more religious, such as the Christian Brethren 
among the Orthodox, and St. Pauls among the Episcopalians. 

The Phi Beta Kappa is an association the qualification for which is 
scholarship, the best twenty-five, formerly the best sixteen, scholars being 
selected from each class, part in the junior and part in the senior year. 
Others are added from graduates at their animal stated meeting on the 
Thursday following conunencement, on which occasion they have an oration 
and poem generally of distinguished excellence, and dine together in the 
college hall. 

The Harvard AVashington Corps was not the first military organization 
attached to Harvard College. Another earlier was established in 17()tl. with 
the motto, (am Marti quam Merciirio. Its last commander was Solomon 
A^ose, of tlie class of ITST. Under its latter name it was revived in 1811, 
by Gov. Gerry, and became one of the best drilled companies in the State. 
7 



42 OLD CAMBllIDGE AND NEW. 

Its armory was in the fifth story of Hollis. At first only seniors and juniors 
belonged to it, but from 1825 all the classes. Its guns having been thrown 
out of the windows and damaged in the rebellion of' 1834, it was disbanded. 

One of the most amusing and clever organizations of any college was 
the Med. Facs. of Cambridge, started in 1818, and which flourished fox many 
years, brimming over with wit and fun. It frequently atti-acted the atten- 
tion of the government, who, upon second thought, concluded not to sup- 
press it. It eventually exceeded the bounds of moderation, and being judged 
too disorderly and uproarious for longer toleration, in 1834 it was tempo- 
rarily broken up, some of its record-books, though fortunately not all of 
them, being burnt in presence of the faculty. Again in 18 GO this society 
was suppressed, and its records were destroyed by the college government. 
Its catalogues, published in 1824, 1827, 1830 and 1833, burlesques on the 
triennial, are very entertaining, and though containing many happy bits at 
passing celebrities, they are not often illnatured. It was again revived, 
and is still believed to exist, though shorn of its original brightness. 

The Navy Club dates back to 178G, and consisted of members of the 
senior class, who had no parts assigned them at commencement. It was a 
sort of protest against the distinction to their prejudice, and an intimation 
that they were not cast down by this humiliation. Its Lord High Admiral 
was selected by his predecessor, from those ranging lowest in scholarship, 
but most distinguished for their mother wit and natural cleverness. He chose 
his subordinates, and it was their custom in grotesque dresses to march 
through the streets and grounds, saluting the several buildings and officials 
Avith groans. Towards commencement their proceedings closed with an ex- 
cursion down the harbor, sometimes extended as far as Cape Cod, whence, 
after a clam bake or mammoth chowder, they returned the third day. Its 
organization and modes of procedure have been somewhat fitful, and un- 
dergone, from time to time, many modifications. Its last procession made 
its appearance in 184G, and its last excursion down the harbor was in 1851. 

Ancient Dw^ellings. 

It was matter of doulit with President Sparks and some later authorities, 
whether Putnam, during the siege of Boston in the revolutionary war, had 
his headquarters in the Innian house. That this mansion was his residence 
and that of Mrs. Putnam is believed to be too well authenticated for dispute. 
Hut it is said that the otTice duties of his command were performed in a 
small hip-roofed house standing within the last half century on Dana Hill. 
As his family were with hini in camp, it is quite probable that for the 
nuiltifarious affairs connected with the service he may have had accommo- 
dations near by his own abode, where his aids and other officers of his staflT 
had their quarters and the routine business of the post was transacted. 

Numerous other houses besides tliose Ave have ventured to describe, or to 
Avhich allusion has been made, are scattered about Cambridge, bearing un- 
n.iistakable indications of extreme old age. Others, decked externally Avith 
the embellishments of modern modes, betray within marks of the far distant 
period in which they Avere constructed. Many of them may still possess a 
lustory, could Ave discover it, but for the most part this has passed Avith the 
memory of their inmates into oblivion. Were Ave familiar Avith the vicissi- 
tude's that have chanced beneath their roofs, Ave should find ample food for 
wisdom and instruction, Avhile the story of a i'evf of them might sound 



ArTKKH.LKAM.NCS. 43 

too much like romance to be belicvetl. Even where no stirriiiir inciilt-nts 
have (listurbeJ the even tenor of existence, anions the innnnii;r:il)h' caravan 
that in tlie centuries have come and <:<)ne, there has lu-en no doubt 
variety enouj^h. Brides in their ch)si;ts, wiihnvs in their weeds, patriarchs 
by winter hearths living on recollection, youth taking their departure in pur- 
suit of fortune or glory, how many now in tlieir prime in the full tlusli of 
manhood would liave es])ecial interest in those forgotten memories could 
they but be revived ! 

AVhocver indeed takes into view what a single human life actually signi- 
fies, or is sulliciently courageous to group the incidents of his'own, will aclniit 
that occurrences seemingly trivial are often the reverse. Happiness and 
adversity assume diverse forms, and the heart may sound all the depths of 
which its curiously contrived nature is susceptible in the midst of conunon- 
place. But apart from these inner experiences, important to ourselves, but 
not in the least to our neighbors, ordinary incidents of periods remote beconu; 
interesting as they recede. There niay remain no traditions, not even the 
family Bible, to tell their names or how much of their span was spent when 
laid away, to recount the hojies and joys, the sorrows, remorse or disap- 
pointments of former generations, but without violence to probability it is 
safe to assert that events took place within these crumbling walls of 
deepest import to those that dwelt there. It would require little aid from 
imagination to call back choicest specimens of manly worth and feminine 
loveliness to their drahia of duty and atfection to pi'ove our assertion to be 
true. But this is not our province. We deal with realities, not speculation, 
and fortunately there are sullicient well-authenticated facts associated with 
the mansions, which from tlieir design or superior dimensions excite curi- 
osity, to need no aid from fancy. 

AVoodstock, that Scott so pleasantly describes, is not the only house of 
days gone by possessed of secret chambers. In troubled times in New 
England, when Indian depredations occasional!}' approached the densest 
settlements, such places of concealment were of prime necessity and not 
unusual. It is well known how long the regicides — Goff, AVhalley and 
Dixwell — escaped the active pursuit ot (ilial and regal resentment in curious- 
ly contrived cellars and closets unol)served, or at least unnoticed, by members 
of the families that sheltered them. When at a later period the most substantial 
dwellings of the capital were sacked bj' popular violence, which was men- 
aced to those in less populous neighborJioods, it was natural to resort to 
similar expedients for personal safety, or for the security of papers and 
articles of value. Such a secret chamber is said to have been discovered 
in the Lechmere house, behind a chimney stack connected with an ingenious- 
ly arranged trap door in the closet of the dining-room. Its access was too 
mysteriously guarded to warrant the supposition that evej^iits ostensible 
purpose was the storage of wine. 

Higher up Brattle str€*et, opposite Elmwood, the seat of James Ivussell 
Lowell, stands a mansion in excellent preservation, which we .'•hould have 
mentioned before. If not so ancient as that of Judge Lee, it was one of iIk* 
earliest of any pretension to elegance erected in that neighborhood. 
Susanna, daughter of Leonard Vassall, the progenitor of the second New 
England line of that name, was born in Boston, November 20, 1725. At 
the age of seventeen, in 1742, she became the wife of Capt. George Rug- 
gles, a wealthy planter of the island of Jamaica. Soon after his marriiiL.'" 



44 OLD CAMBRIDGE AND NEW. 

lie purchased this estate, then in Watertown, for Cambridge prior to 1754 
extended in a westerly direction only to the line of wliat is now Sparks 
street. Previously the whole of Fresh Pond was in Watertown, forming 
part of tliat abundant supply of the limpid element from wliich that ancient 
place derived its appellation. 

The original purchase, with possibly later accessions of territory, comprising 
fifty -six acres, bounding east on the estate already described of Judge 
Lee, and in part on the river, extended back towards the pond. On the pro- 
perty Mr. Ruggles, soon after he became its owner, erected this fine mansion 
in which he resided down nearly to the revolution. About 1771 he became 
embarrassed and the estate was sold under attachment, but bought in by his 
friends was subsequently reconveyed to him. He did not continue to hold 
it, but October 31, 1774, sold it for two thousand pounds to Thomas Faj^er- 
weather, whose wife was daughter of the Hon. Thomas Hubbard, for a 
quarter of a century treasurer of the college. Mr. Hubbard, soon after 
1737, when Leonard Vassall died, had purchased of his heirs the mansion on 
Summer street in Boston, opposite Trinity church, and which stood on the 
present site of the store of tlie Hoveys. This he occupied till his death in 
1773, and his widow afterwards till her decease a year later. As the former 
proi^erty of his father-in-law, the property being in the market attracted the 
attention of Capt. Ruggles, and an exchange was effected of the two estates, 
that in Boston being taken for half the purchase money of that at Cam- 
bridge. What became of JMr. Euggles is only matter of conjecture. It is 
believed that he became, after the evacuation of Boston by the British in 
March, 1776, a refugee loyalist, and went to Halifax. His daughter, bap- 
tized July 2G, 1747, married Ezekiel Lewis, a merchant of Boston, who 
resided at one time with his father-in-law in Cambridge, and died about 1779. 
She has been sometimes mistaken for another very beautiful lady, daughter 
of Brigadier Ruggles, of Hardwick, a personage of considerable political 
celebrity in those days, Avho was unhappily connected witli a sad domestic 
tragedy, her husband being slain by lier own hand. 

Mr. Fayerweather, from whom the neighboring road or street was named, 
long resided in this mansion. About fifty years ago, witlt the adjoining 
grounds, it passed into the possession of the late Mr. William Wells, whose 
familjr still own and occupy it. The stables and outbuildings liave some of 
them been taken down or rebuilt, and the house itself has been enlarged 
and modernized. It retains most of the peculiarities in construction of the 
period when it was erected. It has the same lofty ceilings, spacious hall, 
and handsome staircase which characterized that of Mr. Vassall in Summer 
street in Boston, built twenty years earlier. Many of the houses of that 
date owed no doubt their improved proportions to the fact that those who 
erected them had become accustomed, in the West Indies or in England, 
to elegant abodes. 

The house, a large square edifice of three stories in elevation, measuring 
more than fifty feet in either dimension, stands back from the road. It was 
f>)rmerly approached by a straight path in front, but now by a carriage 
drive on one side. The drawing room has its share of handsome panelling, 
tiles of many devices and cornices of wood. The parlor, on -the left side of 
the hall, which is broad and divided midway between the front and rear, is a 
very pleasant apartment. It has a large fireplace Avith a mantel from the 
mansion formerly in Bowdoin square in Boston of the Bootts, of which 



AFTi:R-f;LF.A\IXGS. 45 

family ^frs. Wells is a daurjlitor. On either side of the firoplacc are (lePi» 
recesses, tluough that on th<^ ri<iht a (hior opening into the spacious dining- 
room beyond. The panelled wood work round the room has this peculiarity, 
that it extends some live feet from the ground. Deep low window scats, 
comfortably cushioned, afford jjleasant glimpses of the foliage of many 
varieties around. On the doors are brasses of the most brilliant lustre, 
from the Hancock House on Beacon Hill. 

Jiack of the drawing and opposite the dining room is another largo apart- 
ment with an agreeable outlook over the grounds. In it stands the talile 
on which General Lee signed his surrentler at Appomattox Court House. 
It had been manufactured by a soldier out of a deal box sent fiom the Sani- 
tary to camp with supplies, and varnished makes a very handsome article 
of furniture. It was used in his tent, by (^»en. Cirillin, in command of the. 
division to which the soldier belonged, serving double duty for daily rej)asts 
and literary work. IJeing at hand when needed for that most auspicious 
event in the history of our republic, which put an end, we hope forever, to 
civil strife, the table has accjuired a value as a relic not likely to grow less. 

The rooms above on two floors are large and cheery, retaining whatever 
was elegant in the fashion of old, the only peculiarity of constniction being 
that instead of window seats as below, the panelling rises to form before 
the windows shelves for plants or similar purposes. On the third floor the 
rooms look particularly spacious from their low stud, a tall man not being 
able more than to stand erect beneath the beams, but they are very cosy 
and pleasant to behold, and when the early sun pours in through the many 
windows, his heart must be heavy who does not rise to such a Hood of 
radiance in spirits to take the world that day at least at disadvantage. 

It would be injustii-e to this pleasant abode were the gardens and pleasure 
grounds passed by without ol)servation. Time has grown nol)le forest trees, 
and shrul)s and plants bear witness to the taste that roared them. Lofty 
fences shut out the dust of the neighl)oring roads, and within are privacy an«l 
walks of sutlicient extent for recreation. As poj)ulation becomes more 
dense the extensive enclosure may yield to its jiressure, but the house is of 
sutli<'ient solidih' and elegance to survive perhaps another century. 

AVhen Class Day threw open the pleasant chambers of the lirattle House 
to the friends of the graduates who had occupied it, a glimpse at its 
fair proportions and tasteful decorations after the A\sliion of ohl, caused 
regret that the opportunity had not offered earlier for a description of its 
interior. The mansion on the Common once occupied by Dr. Waterhouse 
also deserves the especial attention of the antiquary. It lias no doubt been 
mad(! over in later times, but bears marks of being one of the oldest houses 
in Cambridge. Its massive woodwork, floors on diiferent levels, some 
sunken by time, doors so low that a man above medium height nuist stoo]) 
to enter, contrast with the airy and elegant staircase and li:dl which appear 
to date fiom a much later period. The Apthorp an<l William Winthrop 
houses should also have been described. 



\ 



^lir CanwHrfirsf mt^ tSftle^ 



By TIIOMA S C. A MO R }'. 



V> S T N : 

.IA.MJ> 1{. (>^(;(J(^D c't CO., 124 THK.MONT ^rilKKT. 
T "■■ Ti,knor& Fields, niul Fiel.ls, Oo_'.....I \- rv.. 

1871. 



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